


You're Not Gone, Are You?

by Blackbutlersecrets



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Basically none of the Thor movies ever happen, Canon Divergence - Thor (2011), Forehead Kisses, He's not great but he's meh, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Major Character "Death", Mostly hurt with some comfort, Odin's B+ Parenting, POOR magic use, Pre-Thor (2011), So much angst, happy ending??, implied suicidal thoughts, magic use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-01-27 00:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackbutlersecrets/pseuds/Blackbutlersecrets
Summary: "It was impossible to tell whether it was the loud thud or Thor’s exclamation, but Loki was suddenly and terrifyingly awake. A horrifying scream left his already open mouth, body shaking violently as his hands reached up to claw at his eyes. Thor landed on his knees beside his brother, reaching for him and faltering when Loki twisted away from his grasp."--Thor loses Loki in a magical accident. He will do whatever it takes to get his brother back-- but when Loki comes back broken, Thor slowly begins to realize that he might be out of his depth.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Thor
Comments: 22
Kudos: 206
Collections: Thorki Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

Loki almost had it. 

He was so damn close. The power steadily leaking from his fingers slid into the spaces between the air, twisting and writhing around the room as it struggled to form. Opening inter-realm portals was not _ forbidden _ per say, but it was highly frowned upon. There were so many reasons it was forbidden: the sheer amount of power it required, the endless list of dangerous side-effects, the ever-present possibility that something could go wrong or cause certain death, so on and so forth. Loki knew all of that. Those were warnings for novice sorcerers and he was fairly certain that he was above all that. What he didn’t know was all the bountiful knowledge hidden in other realms. The books and the magic he hadn’t been taught because they weren’t considered polite for a prince of Asgard. The endless possibilities always locked away just out of his reach. 

Or _ used to _ be locked away. 

Closing his eyes and forcing himself to concentrate, Loki took several deep breaths in and out. He had to clear his mind. Empty it of all distractions or this was never going to work. Being the first to master inter-realm travel, and at such a young age? Loki wanted it _ bad_. To prove that he was just as good, if not better than his peers. The thought quickened his pulse and he huffed, wiggling his fingers to get some nervous energy out. 

He needed to be calm. To focus on nothing but the movement of his lungs through his chest. The magic he could feel tingling beneath his skin. The air surrounding his body displaced as he took steady breaths. Eventually his heart rate started to slow and Loki lifted his hands once more. This was nothing. Child’s play to a prince of Asgard.

Just breathe in….

And out. 

Moving the two fingers of his left hand in a sharp gesture, Loki split the air itself. The magic that had coalesced in his fingertips extended itself and divided the empty space in front of him as easily as if he had just blinked and suddenly the air was different. Where before there was nothing, there was now the striking, faint purple night sky of Vanaheim. Sparks of golden light wavered around the outsides of the portal, looking both dangerous and inviting.

He’d done it. 

Eyes widening in amazement, a startled laugh punched its way out of Loki’s lungs as he stepped forward towards the portal, eagerly reaching out to touch the shimmering edges of the magic. As soon as his concentration wavered, even for the mere second of amazement, the connection snapped. He could feel his magic recoil like a cut cord, spiraling back towards him at a dizzying speed. Loki blanched with the force of it, stumbling backwards as the portal collapsed in on itself. 

There was nothing but the sound of his breathing and the vague energy of lingering magic left in the room. Taking two tentative steps forward, Loki slowly waved his hands through the space where the portal had been moments ago. Feeling nothing but air, all as it should be, he closed his eyes and felt with his seidr. Nothing could be detected but faint traces of magic and mere wisps of air that were only slightly fresher than that of this vaguely stuffy magic chamber. Loki could feel his fingers trembling, could feel his fingers threatening to spark with the excitement of his achievement. Even if he had more work to do, the first step was taken. 

Loki’s eyes glinted with excitement before he closed them and raised his hand once more. There was nothing to do now except practice. 

***

“Thor! Thor get up, you lazy ass!” 

His brother was exactly where Loki had expected him to be: leisurely sprawled out on his ridiculously over-sized bed, head turned to the side in his slumber. How Thor could sleep at this undeniably crucial moment astounded Loki, never mind the fact that night had fallen a considerable amount of hours ago and Loki was one of the few people in the palace still awake. The second son was completely wired with energy, green eyes sparkling madly in the dim light coming from the hallway. 

Thor let out a heavy put-upon sigh as he was roused from his sleep, eyes still shut as he turned in the vague direction of his brother. “This had better be important, brother. I was asleep…”

“Yes, _ obviously_,” Loki’s foot twitched with the urge to tap impatiently as he waited for his brother to move, “but you must rise now. I have discovered something of great importance and, believe it or not, I have need of your assistance.”

Thor grumbled and rubbed his hands over his face, scrubbing at his eyes unhappily. “And _ what _could be so important that it couldn’t wait until dawn at least? Or after breakfast, for that matter?”

An excited smile spread slowly across Loki’s face, looking almost frightening in the dim light. 

“How about inter-realm travel without the Bi-Frost?”

Thor abruptly sat up straight, fatigue all but forgotten in the face of what Loki _ knew _ would impress his brother. He grinned at his brother, relishing in the slow smile Thor returned, the energy level in the room rising, static making the hair on Loki’s arm stand straight up as though a storm were approaching.

Oh this was going to be _ fun_.

***

“I do not understand the need for all this secrecy,” Thor complained, tugging at the heavy hood of the dark cloak Loki had thrown over his shoulders. For his troubles, he earned a dirty look from his brother and a pale hand pushing the hood down further over Thor’s eyes. 

“The whole point of going at this hour is not to be recognized. If you keep up your whining then all of Asgard will know it is us,” Loki spoke briskly, keeping his head facing straight ahead while his eyes swept the room. They were in a near deserted wing of the castle, but today was no day to take any chances. Being seen would only lead to a delay in his plans, and Loki was feeling far too impatient with his latest success to wait. The way the air had felt, tearing itself apart at Loki’s whim, had remained in his fingers, tingling and reminding him of the sheer power he could wield.

“We are almost there. Kindly shut up and keep walking,” he muttered. Loki had claimed that he needed Thor with him, in case something went wrong, but that was hardly the whole truth of the matter. Yes, Thor could come in handy if something went awry, but having his brother there to witness what Loki thought could be one of his greatest successes was too much to pass up. If this worked, Thor would be quite impressed. Although he would never, even under threat of death, admit it, Loki liked receiving his brother’s praise. 

Thor rolled his eyes but complied, lengthening his stride so that Loki would have to walk faster to keep up. Loki thought this was ridiculous and petty, but said nothing as he moved to keep pace with his brother. 

Loki hadn’t been lying when he had said they were almost there. Mere moments later saw the pair turn a corner into a dimly lit corridor that clearly had seen no use in the last decade at least. A faded and torn tapestry hung on the left wall, depicting what appeared to be a glorious battle. Loki was unfamiliar with the scene, guessing that it was all but forgotten by Asgard in the sheer number of glorious battles fought by her soldiers. 

The trickster god wasted no time in marching straight up to the tapestry and pushing it to the side, revealing a door that was nearly rusted shut. The warm green light that Thor was well used to seeing, and occasionally fearing, leaked from Loki’s fingertips and the door swung silently open. The lack of any loud squealing noise was a small miracle on its own, but the inside of the room was a shock that Thor was unprepared for. Unlike the hallway preceding it, this room was bathed in light and heat, both of which emanated from a small ball of light hanging suspended in the air. The prickly feel of magic permeated the room, soaking into the air and slipping under Thor’s skin to prod at his nerves. 

“Here?” Thor turned to Loki questioningly, eyebrows half raised in surprise. “Did you create this room?”

Loki pushed past his brother and rolled his eyes. “Obviously,” he said. “We would not be here if it was not someplace I could trust. For the last time, be quiet and give me a minute.”

He closed his eyes and went still, leaving Thor to examine the room closer. The walls appeared to be made of a different material than the rest of the castle. The typical stone was replaced by what looked to be a spongy material of a dull grey color. It looked relatively new, certainly far newer than the rest of this wing of the castle. 

“How long has this been here?” He wondered aloud, causing Loki to snap his eyes open in annoyance. 

“I have been using it for nearly a century. Now for Norns’ sake, Thor, _ shut up_.” 

The exasperation in his brother’s voice caused Thor to huff as he ran his hands along the wall, watching as his hand started to sink into the material. Underneath, what Thor guesses was just an illusion, was the worn stone of the traditional castle walls. Yanking his hand back quickly, he held it close to his face, inspecting it for malevolent traces of magic. Although he was unable to cast, or really even sense, magic all that well, Thor was familiar with the warning signs of harmful spells. A moment later, he lowered his arm back to his side, satisfied that there would be no great curse placed on him. As he was turning to face the door again, his brother opened his eyes. 

“Alright,” Loki sighed, eyes intent with what Thor could only describe as glee. “Everything feels as it should. Are you ready, brother?”

Thor mirrored Loki’s smile, excited at the prospect of no longer needing to rely on Heimdall for passage in and out of Asgard. All of the potential adventures and glories that would be opened up by this was no small thing. 

“Ready as ever. Where are we going?”

“Vanaheim. Now come here,” Loki instructed, holding out his arm for Thor to take. As soon as his brother did just that, he focused his breath and held up his hand. He focused on the air and space in front of him, focused on what he wanted it to do. What he needed it to do. He focused on splitting the air apart, using his magic to sheer the ties holding Asgard together and allow Vanaheim to fill the spaces between. 

His magic didn’t immediately obey and Loki furrowed his brow in concentration, sneaking a glance at Thor, who was watching him closely. If this didn’t work, if this was all for nothing, then Thor would never let him live it down. He had to get this right. Swallowing down a flow of sudden nervousness, Loki closed his eyes and tried again. Lifting his hand in the exact same manner as he had before and slicing the air, feeling the particles give way before him. Not opening his eyes in fear of causing the spell to break, he tightened his grip on his brother’s arm and willed them both to the other side of the barrier. 

A wave of cold washed over them as soon as Loki felt the familiar aura of Asgard fade away, the tether of the portal snapping shut behind them. A startled noise from Thor caused Loki to jerk his head up, eyes opening and immediately widening in shock. Cold air whipped at his eyes, an excruciatingly sharp wind biting furiously at his skin and threatening to rend it straight off his bones. Snow began to land heavily on his body as he looked around them in shock. Desolate mountain ranges were the only things visible in the minimal light, everything being coated in a miserably dark blue. 

Jotunheim. 

Loki immediately realized his mistake and felt his breath freeze solid in his throat as Thor squeezed his arm. 

“This is not a funny jest, brother,” Thor whispered, the small sound swallowed by the screeching wind assaulting them from all sides. 

“It is not a jest! This was not supposed to happen. I have no idea what went wrong,” Loki hissed back. “It worked before.” 

“Well, get us out of here. Without Mjölnir, we are defenseless.” Thor sounded almost nervous, but Loki knew that later his proud brother would never admit to it. 

“Clearly. Give me a moment,” Loki muttered, ignoring the sting of the implication that he was incapable of protecting himself. Despite his efforts to stay calm, there was a steady current of fear thrumming through his body. His nerves were on fire in spite of the obvious chill, each nerve ending lighting up and reminding Loki of the precariousness of their situation. Of the danger that he had dropped them right into. 

What they were doing --unsanctioned inter-realm travel-- was already against the rules. Going to Jotunheim was absolutely _ forbidden _. The consequences of this could be catastrophic, not even considering the possibility that a Jotun could discover them here. They could start a war. Destroy centuries worth of hard fought peace. Panic began to fray the edges of his vision and Loki clasped his hands together in an attempt to soothe himself, a habit gleaned from his mother. 

Oddly enough, Jotunheim wasn’t as cold as he would have imagined. The many stories of fierce battles fought on Jotunheim bemoaned the chill and its ability to steal the use from a man’s fingers, but after the initial shock of the temperature change, Loki barely noticed the chill. Perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the panic keeping him warm. Beside him, Loki could see that Thor was trying his hardest not to shiver. He had his fists clenched and Loki could almost hear his teeth start to turn to dust from Thor grinding them together so hard. The cold of Jotunheim seemed to be affecting Thor far more than it affected Loki, the tips of his brother’s fingers and nose turning red from the cold. Perhaps it was because Thor spent more time outside sparring, was used to far warmer Asgardian temperatures than Loki was in the stale chill of the library. Loki knew that to Thor, shivering would be to appear weak, especially when Loki didn’t seem to be affected by the cold.

The only thing that allowed him to close his eyes and try to concentrate was the knowledge that Thor was right beside him and would keep him safe. Even without Mjölnir, his brother was a formidable opponent. They would be safe enough that Loki could take an admittedly unsteady breath and clench his teeth in concentration. Loki was their only chance of getting off this forsaken realm, he had to focus. He let himself drift away until he could feel himself starting to center enough to perform such a tasking spell, trusting Thor blindly. 

Not even a minute later, Thor gave a warning shout and grasped for the weapon that was not by his side, clenching his fist around empty air and grimacing when their stupidity dawned on him. 

Roused by Thor’s shout, Loki’s eyes opened in just enough time to see rather than feel the frost giant grab his arm. 

The scream from Thor sounded muddled, as though coming from underneath the surface of a lake, as Loki’s entire world narrowed down to the hand covering most of his forearm. The pain he braced for never arrived, the vambraces he wore shattering under the weight of the frost giant’s grip. Underneath the places where the Jotun was grasping emerged not the blackened skin caused by frostbite he had expected, but a sickeningly recognizable blue color spreading over his skin. Stunned, Loki could only watch it climb up his arm as the Jotun’s grip wavered, Loki’s physiological response clearly not what the monster expected. The moment was broken by Thor hurling himself at the giant, the startled creature stumbling backwards as the god of thunder threw furious punch after punch. 

The skin on Thor’s knuckles blackened and began to burn every time it made contact, but that didn’t stop his foolish brother. Loki raised his hand in front of his face, staring as the blue drained away from his skin out through his fingers until nothing but his own skin was left. There was no feeling left in his arm, in his body, in his mind even after the last of the blue faded. Confusion warped his thoughts and ground everything around him to a screeching halt. What did that mean? Why did his skin change but not Thor’s? Could that mean he was--

A sickening crunch. Followed by a strangled cry echoed as the Jotun landed its first hit onto Thor, cracking what sounded like quite a few bones in his arm. At that, Loki twitched back into reality and suddenly daggers were flying from his hands, directly into the chest of the beast, where if a heart existed it would be pierced through. Again and again until the creature had fallen and did not stir. Then another set just to be sure. And one more to be dead certain.

“Brother… please…” Thor gritted out, holding his mangled arm close to his chest. The blood dripping from his arm immediately froze as it hit the snow, creating an alarmingly growing pile of red at his feet. 

Loki felt as cold and numb as the shitty wasteland around them as he took Thor by the uninjured arm, wrapping his fingers tightly around his brother’s bicep and tugging him closer as he lifted his hand once more. There was no pause as he tried to concentrate, no delay or mistake as the portal opened instantly, revealing the welcome sight of Asgard. Loki did not hesitate as he pulled them through swiftly, frozen shoes immediately starting to thaw in the warm Asgardian air. 

As the familiar magic of home enclosed them once more, all of the breath rushed out of Loki’s lungs. The spell was still taxing even if Loki had managed to perform it quickly. The fear that had been sitting heavy in his chest stormed his body, pushing skittering spots of grey into his vision and crowding out the rest of the world. His grip on Thor’s arm loosened as his heartbeat increased in volume, an obnoxious thudding in his head the only audible sound as he began to sway forward. By the time he hit the ground, he was unconscious. 

***

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before Loki was aware of being pulled to his feet. Everything still ached and he could feel water dripping from his air as ice melted from it. The world was hazy around him, sights and sounds lagging behind the feeling of two strong hands wrapped around his wrists, tugging firmly. Sparks went off in the back of his brain at the sensation, crystal clear memories of cold, of dark, of blue-- of hands grasping his arms, of monsters. Panic startled his body into motion and Loki jerked himself backwards, stumbling away from the figure reaching out to him through the fog. Bringing his arms in close to his chest, he practically tripped on his own feet trying to push himself backwards. 

“Do-- do not, do not _ touch _ me,” he got out, back slamming into the wall and stopping his progress. His head thudded against it, the pain sharp and blooming compared to the dull ache of his brain. 

“Loki, my darling.” 

The words cut sharply through the fog of his brain, feelings of sunlight and warmth echoing faintly in his mind. His mother. Those hands belonged to his mother. 

With this new information in mind, Loki tried to focus on the room before him. The more he looked, the more he began to see. His brother no longer appeared to be in the room. Probably taken to the healing chambers if the two nervous looking healers hovering in the room were any indication. And there was his mother: Frigga stood in front of him, her hands held up in a pacifying gesture. Her hair was half-up and swept away from her shoulders, as if she had been interrupted halfway through taking it down. It was such a small detail but the level of disarray it spoke to shook Loki awake to his surroundings. It was easy to read the concern plainly written all over her face, how her mouth was tilted firmly downward and her eyebrows were furrowed. Whatever had set off the panic alarms in Loki’s brain calmed at the sight of her, despite her obvious anxiety. If she was here, then he would be safe. All would be well. His shoulders relaxed and he lowered his arms, grimacing at the dull aches that bloomed at the action. 

“Mother…what…?”

He didn’t receive an answer to his question and was instead gently folded into his mother’s arms. She lifted a hand to the back of his head, brushing some of the moisture from his hair, cradling his head gently and holding him tight to her. She smelled of her garden and of the library, two of Loki’s favorite places to call home. He lowered his head onto her shoulder, burying his face in her comfort. His mind was racing at a hugely uncomfortable speed, matched only by the frantic beating of his heart that he was struggling to slow. 

The healers that had been lingering, presumably to tend to Loki, gathered their materials and left the room quietly. There was no safer place in Asgard than the queen’s arms. Loki was in incredibly good hands. 

Loki didn’t realize he was making any sounds until he felt the gentle hand rubbing small circles into his back and heard his mother’s soothing noises. If he concentrated, he could feel his body tremble slightly and was surprised that he wasn’t weeping. Always having been more prone to display of emotions than the rest of his peers, Loki was no stranger to tears. Centuries of being called weak for being overemotional had done nothing but desensitize him to the appearance of his own feelings. What did surprise Loki was the distance of his feelings, he had never felt so detached from himself. He could tell that he was scared and knew that terror was making his heart pound and his fingers shake, but it was as if he were observing it from a distance. All of that fear and anxiety belonged to someone else and Loki was just watching it all unfold from afar.

When his mother finally released him, she stepped back to cup his face in her hands, tilting it towards her. The disquiet in her eyes sent a small ripple of remorse through Loki, knowing that he was the one who had caused it. And there-- that was an emotion. He felt that one in his chest, it just came slowly, crawling into his system gradually as if there were a delay between his body and mind. 

“Thor told me what happened,” she said simply, looking at Loki in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted to analyze. He knew that she had to be angry, that her anger was likely hiding somewhere not very far behind the concern that took center stage in her eyes.

“Thor, is he alright?” The sharp snap of bone and his brother’s cry still echoed in Loki’s ears. 

“He will be well soon. His injuries are treatable. He -- and you for that matter -- is lucky that he did not suffer worse.” 

The slight drop of her tone into that of a scolding told Loki that he was about to lose control of the conversation. His head felt stuffed full of dirt, heavy and crumbling apart at the slightest touch. He shook his head from side to side in an effort to shake it all out, only earning a concerned look from his mother for his efforts. Hazily, he felt the need to hold on to the conversation, to try and form words out of the mud between his ears. There was still one thing he didn’t understand, one thing he needed to ask about before the matter was over and punishment was doled out. Loki brought his hands up to cup Frigga’s, holding them to his face in an attempt to steady himself. 

“Mother, when we were… were over there, one of those... things touched my, my arm. There was no burn or blister, like Asgardian flesh is supposed to in-- in the books. Instead my skin turned… blue. It turned blue. Could it have been a… a refraction of the light, or something else?” Loki’s voice was small as he spoke, wavering on the occasional word. The words didn’t seem to want to leave his mouth, getting caught and stumbling on the way out. His head was spinning, the world around him precarious, even the very core of himself uncertain. Loki wanted so desperately for his mother to reassure him, to tell him that he was merely imagining things. The product of an overactive imagination on little sleep. That was all he wanted. 

Frigga just stared. 

Asgard’s queen opened her mouth, only to falter and close it a few seconds later. She was clearly shocked into some kind of silence, which did not bode well for Loki’s fears. His mother was never at a loss for words, especially not when he needed their comfort so badly. He couldn’t help but notice that she looked almost frightened. Was she scared of him? Flashes of blue and hands that couldn’t be his own inspired Loki to take a step back from his mother, fear bubbling up in his throat.

“Please, just help me to understand. Am I… am I cursed?” Any explanation was better than no explanation. The roof of Loki’s mouth tasted of ash, his tongue leaden and continuing to trip over his words. 

He shifted, hands clenching and relaxing on his mother’s wrists. The continued lack of response unnerved him, and the feeling of undiluted panic started to spill back in. His heart rate started to pick up, stomach twisting painfully onto itself. Loki pressed the soles of his feet more firmly to the floor in an attempt to keep himself still, to keep himself from shaking, from running away. 

“Mother? Please, tell me that it’s not… tell me I am not… it is impossible. I’m not… one of them, right? Please tell me so. Mother, please,” Loki could feel his world start to unwind, the fabric of himself, of his home, unraveling beneath him. His mouth could barely form the words, syllables coming out soft and harsh, each one cutting the air like a rusty knife. His eyes moved rapidly, searching Frigga’s face for any hint that he was right. Or any hint that he was wrong. Anything at all from the mother he loved so dearly. 

The queen seemed to sense her son’s distress and gathered her composure from where it lay shattered on the floor, a small smile appearing on her face. She stroked her thumbs over his cheeks, attempting to soothe him and diffuse the situation. 

“Breathe, my darling. You still look faint. Come, let us go sit down and we can talk about--”

For the first time in her life, Frigga was cut off by her youngest son. Loki all but ripped her hands off his face, driving his own hands up into his hair, gripping tight. The sharp pain did nothing to keep his brain from unwinding like a spool of thread, spilling to the floor in flustered and tangled heaps. His breathing was erratic and there was confusion written plainly all over his face, mouth slightly open in distress and eyebrows furrowed. Loki blinked rapidly at the floor, trying to keep it in focus as the world seemed to veer ever so slightly to one side. 

“You cannot be serious. Please, please tell me that you’re lying. I can’t be…” he took in a stilted breath, covering his face with his hands. Staying still for a second, his hands muffled his next words; words that came out pathetically quiet and broken. 

“Mamma, please.”

Silence weighed down the room, so heavily that Loki was having trouble standing straight. The tension had pushed all of the air from the room, suffocating its inhabitants. Loki could hear his own heart beating rapidly in his throat, could hear the sound of it breaking and shattering to pieces in front of him. 

When the words came, they came softly.

“We meant to tell you sooner.”

If the expression on her face was any indication, Frigga was entirely unprepared for the sheer outrage of her son’s reaction. His face twisted and he let out a cry that could only be described as that of a wounded animal. He was trembling violently and she could hear the faint sound of his teeth clacking together from the force. 

“Meant to tell me what? Tell me that I-- that I am a monster? A beast? The creature that parents tell their children about at night? How could you…?” 

The walls themselves seemed to mock Loki. They, like him, were lies. Just a pretty illusion to cover up something uglier, something worse. Something undesirable. He was a frost giant. Well and truly. There was no other explanation. He was one of the monsters that his people, that the Asgardians had fought against for centuries, one of the monsters that children dreamed about fighting and adults boasted about killing. There was not a single redeeming quality to those beasts-- to Loki. He was nothing. Worse than nothing. 

What almost hurt worse than finding out that he was from a breed of monsters was the realization that his family was not his own. The person he called mother had no claim to him, the same for his brother and father. _ Everything _ he knew was a lie, even his own skin. Was there any truth at all to who he was-- to what he was?

The hideously fake walls appeared to be crumbling in, threatening to collapse and bury him, the ground beneath him shaking. Loki was too shattered to realize that it was his own body shaking, that he was about to collapse once more. 

Frigga was present enough to realize this. 

“My son--”

Those two words, those two lies, _ miserable _ lies, were the final straws. The cold skin of his face stung from the hot tears streaming from his eyes, and Loki could no longer stand to be here. To be in front of the person he called mother, to be in this castle, to be in this skin. 

He could no longer stand to be. 

The heart that beat within his chest pushed out wave after wave of sharp pain, every breath that was forced into his lungs shattered his windpipe on the way down. His bones ached with the force of his grief, enough acid rising in his throat to force him to respond. 

“_I am not your son!” _Loki screamed, bodily turning away from Frigga and slamming his hands against the stone wall behind him. The stone didn’t give, and in his rage this surprised Loki only for a moment. What was one more thing he couldn’t seem to do right?

Every inch of his body was filled with the irresistible urge to leave. Every fiber of whatever it was that made up his skin screamed at him to get out, to flee somewhere, anywhere but here. Mind blank of anything except this primal urge, he lifted his hand in front of himself and blindly sliced through the air, not even feeling a sense of relief when his magic seemed to immediately obey him. 

As soon as Frigga realized what Loki was doing, she shouted for him to stop and summoned her own magic to try and stop him, to trap him here and just tell him more lies. Loki heard her as though underwater, the ringing in his ears loud enough to drown out the sound. Just as he could see her spell taking shape, it was too late. 

Loki stumbled through the tear between worlds, recklessly letting the connection snap before checking to see where he had landed. As soon as the portal closed behind him, Loki found himself immobilized. 

The unquantifiable weight of space pressed down onto his body, the mass enough to press his bones together, to plaster the skin to them. His limbs were trapped to his body and his eyes were stuck open. Excruciating pain ripped through every atom of his body, tearing the very fabric of himself into pieces. The weight pressed and pressed and pressed and _ pressed and pressed and-- _

In the void, his sight was limitless. 

Every horror the universe had to offer, every tragedy, every madman, every single evil. 

Everything seemed to look right back at him. 

Loki couldn’t even open his mouth to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my big bang fic! It's already fully written and will be updated weekly. There is also some amazing art that will be accompanying this fic by the wonderful Pokady (find them on twitter @merturias). Without their inspiration and support, this fic wouldn't be finished or complimented by beautiful art. Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day that the search party came back unsuccessful, Thor could no longer be contained. 

“What do you mean he just disappeared? Surely he must at least be somewhere Heimdall can see him.”

Thor winced as the healer gave a particularly tight tug to his stitches, sealing the bones back into his arm. His injury had been in bad shape after Jotunheim, the skin surrounding the broken bone black and rotted. Whatever skin hadn’t been burned was mottled with hideous bruises that steadily pulsed underneath Thor’s skin. Frozen blood had coagulated and stuck to the skin, passed time making it almost impossible to easily remove. It would take much scrubbing and scraping to come clean, something Thor was not looking forward to enduring.

Frigga sat next to her son, holding his hand as Odin delivered the news about Loki. Her expression was distant, the eyes that resembled Thor’s so much a thousand miles away, in whatever galaxy Loki had managed to end up in. 

“The magic your brother used to take you two between realms obviously went wrong. I am certain he did not mean to go far and merely ended up somewhere unexpected,” the Allfather spoke calmly, despite the grave atmosphere in the room. Thor mistook the meaning behind these words, misreading the room and brightening almost immediately. 

“He must just be lost, father. Have no fear, he will be found. Loki is clever and he will figure out how to get himself home.”

Nobody had the heart to tell Thor otherwise. 

***

A month passed and Loki had not found his way home. 

The Allfather sent out a search party led by Asgard’s finest, instructing them to treat his son with the utmost care and caution when they found him. Odin warned them that Loki was likely to be in a difficult frame of mind and was to be brought home at all costs. Anyone that used force, that dared to raise a hand to a prince of Asgard, would be punished severely. 

That night Odin held his weeping wife in his arms, heartsick at the prospect that his son was out there, alone and hurting because of a mistake Odin had made. They should have told Loki sooner. 

He would make this right, he promised Frigga. They just needed to find him first. 

***

The day that the search party came back unsuccessful, Thor could no longer be contained. 

He had already been strictly forbidden from leaving Asgard or searching for Loki. Confined to the golden realm that had never felt so small, the prince was practically climbing the walls without his brother. A nervousness that was unfamiliar to him translated itself into energy that threatened to rend Thor limb from limb if he couldn’t find a way to somehow get it out. 

Neither Frigga or Odin had shared the truth of Loki’s departure with Thor, leaving him to blame himself for it. The only reason Thor could think of was that Loki must be angry at being caught breaking the rules, or embarrassed of making a mistake. Perhaps he was angry at Thor for not protecting them well enough. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. The list of what-ifs was endless as it ran unchecked through Thor’s brain. The fact that there was no way to find out for sure why Loki had left, the fact that Loki was still  _ gone _ , he had yet to return, rattled around his mind until Thor was certain he could take no more.

The almost overwhelming guilt at being the perceived reason why Loki had fled was beginning to overtake him. Sleepless nights carried over into trudging days, days where the only thing Thor wanted to do was sleep, until night fell and he found himself wide awake. The golden prince was unused to dealing with guilt or worry of this magnitude. Anger, however, was certainly familiar. Aggression and ferocity were not only good motivators, they were socially approved of by Asgard. So Thor turned to what he definitely  _ did _ know how to deal with: combat. 

Thor fought everyday, with just about anyone, at any time. People actively tried to avoid the prince during the day, not wanting to be subjected to an impromptu “training session” with him. Several Einherjar had returned from duty in the palace coated in bruises from wooden training swords, and it became public knowledge that Prince Thor spent twice the amount of time training than he had previously. Many Asgardians even applauded his dedication to his craft, to protecting their people, unsurprisingly, missing the fact that there could be a reason for Thor’s behavior. The physical outlet made Thor feel so much better. Sleeping was easier when he was so physically exhausted that he could barely stand, and there was less room for worry when his mind was occupied by the immediate actions and consequences of battle.

The day the search party returned empty handed was a dark one. Dark clouds rolled over Asgard, the threat of rain imminent but refusing to appear. Hours after the skies turned dark, Thor marched straight into the throne room and demanded a private audience with his father, who was in the middle of several important conversations; all of which Odin ended at once to speak with his son. There is a lot that can be said about the Allfather, but that he is one to repeat his own mistakes is not often said.

As the assorted advisers and petitioners filed out of the throne room, some moving especially slow in hopes of hearing a little of what was about to be said, Thor quickly bowed to his father. The painful hours of etiquette training that he had unsuccessfully tried to sleep through kicked in, the suddenness of the movement making his limbs jerky and stiff. It was something he was expected to do in the company of others as a signal of respect for his father’s position, but wasn’t something he always remembered in a timely manner. 

“Father, you must allow me to search for Loki. It is my fault that he is lost in the first place and it is only right that I be involved in the search to find him,” Thor insisted, standing directly in front of the throne, all pretenses of kingly respect aside now that the room was emptied. Now it was just father and son, not Allfather and prince. The golden hall echoed with the volume and weight of the request, the only other sounds muffled from outside the throne room.

Odin contemplated Thor in silence, gaze leaden as he stared. It took only a moment for Thor to become uncomfortable under his father’s single eye, shifting his weight in the quiet room. He hadn’t considered what would happen if his request were denied; in fact, he had barely considered how this would go at all. Going out to find his brother was more a necessity than a desire, the fact that he might not be permitted to do so causing his stomach to drop.

“Father--” he began again, the raised hand from the king causing his jaw to click as his mouth snapped shut. To speak over or against the Allfather would be insolence and Thor was asking for a favor here. Insolence was not something he could afford. Thor could almost  _ hear _ Loki whispering the words in his ear: ‘Thor, stop and think. You need something from him, treat him with respect and he will be more inclined to grant your request’. If Thor turned his head slightly to the side to better hear the words unspoken, Odin either didn’t notice or didn’t comment on it.

“Enough, Thor. You believe you can offer something to the search that Asgard’s seasoned warriors cannot?”

With his request framed in such a different light, arrogance out on full display, Thor had almost nothing to say. All of his righteous complaints about being left behind, all of the strengths that he wanted to give as proof to his worthiness, it all disappeared in the naked light of the truth. Thor wouldn’t be able to offer much, and he knew it. But acknowledging it was a different story. He felt uncomfortably exposed, defenses rising as he pushed back against his father’s words.

“Loki is my brother,” were the only words he could find, offering up nothing else. He had never been the one that gifted with words. Since his brother’s disappearance, the vast majority of Thor’s thoughts have been wracked with that annoying guilt. The knowledge that his brother was somewhere, anywhere other than at home, because of him weighed heavily on his shoulders. Sleeping had become a rarely spoken-to fling with the prince, even with the amount of physical exertion he had been subjecting himself to. He much preferred to spend his time wandering Asgard, never admitting to what, or who, he was actually searching for. He didn’t have to admit anything. Everyone already knew. 

Odin’s continued silence prickled Thor’s heart, each beat of silence raking down his chest like broken glass. If his father was hesitating, that meant it was something he didn’t wish. His request would be denied; Thor would not be allowed to join the search. Loki would remain out there, unfound and alone. 

Resolve settled deep into Thor’s bones as he met his father’s eyes. It didn’t matter if he had Odin’s approval or not. Loki was worth far more to Thor than any punishment his father could think up. He would find his younger brother, with or without Odin’s approval. This was just a formality. 

The title of Allfather was more than just a title, and it was certainly not something just anyone could hold. Thor knew that Odin could probably read every last one of Thor’s intentions all over his face, could read his intent in the set of his mouth and the way his back straightened minutely. If Thor could feel these changes in himself, there was no way Odin had missed them. His father let out a heavy sigh as he placed one hand to his forehead. In that moment Odin truly looked his age, weariness practically hanging off his body as his posture threatened to slump. 

“Am I not permitted to try and keep at least one of my sons safe? If I tell you no, you will just do it anyways. Do not bother arguing, you stubborn boy. I see it in your eyes. Every one of my senses as king tells me this is a terrible idea. But as a father, with a missing son…. I shall allow it," he decreed heavily, watching as his son’s face lit up despite the danger he was surely about to wade right into. “On the basis that you do not go alone,” He added, leaning forward towards Thor, looking at his son in the eye as Thor tilted his head up to better meet his father’s eye. “Your safety, Thor,” Odin’s words were quiet as he spoke, the heaviness of the fatigue in his voice weighing them down, “is the most important thing. Do all you can to find your brother, bring him back safe and alive. But do not risk your own life to save his. I will not let your mother lose a second son.”

Thor was barely listening to Odin’s warning, the permission he had been given all he had been looking for in that conversation. He was focused on other things as he bowed to his father once more, such as what to pack and when he could leave.

***

“Come on! This way, just a little further,” Thor called out over his shoulder. The Warriors Three, plus Sif, were struggling to keep up with Thor in the thick forests of Vanaheim. The prince, who seemed to have energy abound, was doing a poor job of remembering that other people have limitations as they cut their way through Vanaheim’s abundant forestry. The trees were tall, taller than they had any right to be, and loomed dozens of feet above their heads. Every movement they made was tracked by the invisible eyes of Vanaheim’s fauna, waiting still in the trees to determine if the five Asgardians posed any threat. The sounds of insects floated all around them and causing the air to be alight with the chatter of languages none of them could understand.

Barely two minutes after Thor’s encouraging shout, Volstagg sat down on a rock and pleaded for Thor to stop, to at least take a pause. The red-headed man was useful in a fight due to his sheer mass, but on stealth or tracking expeditions his greatest advantage was quick to become his downfall. The other warriors, who were merely grateful at not having been the first to admit defeat, rallied around Volstagg and insisted on making their camp for the night. 

“Thor, we have been walking for hours. Surely we can afford a few minutes rest,” Sif argued, sheathing her sword from it’s constant place in her hand. Her dark hair was sticky with sweat, dirt lining the sides or her forehead where she had tried to wipe some of it off. Lady Sif was never one to be caught off guard, especially in an unfamiliar place. If she was putting her sword away it meant that she thought they would be safe, that they needed to pause.

Frustrated, Thor slammed Mjölnir to the ground, advancing on his friends before he could think. Hogun and Fandral each took a step backwards, and Sif immediately reached back and put her hand on the handle of her sword. Thor stopped in his tracks, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, letting his nails dig into his palms before bringing them up to rub at his eyes. He didn’t want his friends to feel threatened by him, he just wanted them to understand. How hard was it to understand this? They didn’t have  _ time _ to stop. Forcing his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he pushed a breath in through his nose and held it before releasing it with a sigh. 

“Friends, Loki has been missing for nearly three months time. As his older brother it is my responsibility to find him and bring him home safely. There is little time for resting,” he tried to explain, measuring his words against his temper. He was aware of how his friends were looking at him, how they had ever-so-casually shifted into defensive stances as he spoke. It didn’t feel right to Thor, he hated his friends looking at him like he was dangerous. He tried to relax his posture, to appear less frustrated and less threatening to the friends that had so graciously agreed to help him search for Loki. They were the only reason he was allowed to even be out here. He had to remember that.

Thankfully, Sif seemed to understand. Some of the tension left her face as she nodded at him, although her hand remained steady on the hilt of her sword. She exchanged a glance with Hogun before looking back to Asgard’s prince. 

“We do understand, Thor. Truly. However a few moments to regain our stamina will only be helpful later,” Sif spoke in a soothing tone, too soothing for Thor. He felt a twinge of irritation at her patronizing him, speaking to him like an irritated child. Resentment bubbled up in his throat, the metallic taste sharp enough to make his lips curl down. He was a damn  _ prince _ for Norns’ sake. Holding his temper became the object of most of his focus, not wanting to further upset his friends.

“Precisely,” Fandral piped in. “We shall surely become more productive after a small rest! Right, friends?”

A few moments rest turned into an hour. Then two as Fandral told wild stories to make everyone laugh, and Volstagg insisted on having dinner, and Sif and Hogun sharpened their blades. The relief at finally having a decent rest after hours and days of being unable to convince Thor to stop for long was intoxicating and silently agreed on. Thor could see it in the sideways glances that they didn’t mean for him to see. It was only a few minutes between the end of this “rest” and nightfall, the warriors reasoned, surely they might as well rest for the night. 

Thor was not of the same mind. Unamused by any of Fandral’s wily stories and leaving his dinner untouched, he could not stop his mind from wandering. The worry that had clenched in his chat sat heavily, refusing to move and Thor thought that perhaps he finally understood what Mjölnir felt like to others. He could think of nothing other than his brother. Loki was out there somewhere, scared and alone. Possibly injured, needing help, maybe even lying somewhere, bloody and alone and dead--

Thor shot up to his feet, the guilt, the fear, the what-if’s physically driving him into action. His friends startled, recoiling from the sudden movement but making no move against him. He grabbed Mjölnir as he stood, practically vibrating as he spun his hammer wildly before shooting off into the distance. The warriors were shell-shocked, staring after their friend with stunned silence. 

“We should probably go after him, right?” Fandral asked into the quiet. 

“Shut  _ up _ , Fandral.” 

***

Thor hurtled through the darkness, smashing branches aside left and right. The branches snapped beneath his feet as he viciously pushed brush and leaves out of his way. Adrenaline pumped through his veins like a promise and Thor scanned his surroundings avidly. The hill he was currently on peaked in a few feet, where he would have a better vantage point. He could feel the worry and the fear scrabbling up his throat, scraping the sides leaving it raw as he started towards the top of the hill. Searching the ground for footprints, looking for any scrap of green cloth, Thor looked for absolutely anything to indicate that his lost brother could be somewhere around here. 

Thor had no concept of the time; whether it had been hours or minutes. Eventually his arms started to tire from lifting tree branches and his legs began to ache from ducking into hidden caves. An unusual wetness made his hands feel sticky and he held them up to the quickly-fading daylight to inspect them. They were covered in small cuts and deep scratches, blood dripping down at a steady pace. Nothing serious, nothing that would stop his search. He turned to his side, absently looking for Hogun, who carried the bandages in his pack, before stopping short. Quickly rubbing his hands off onto his pants, Thor winced when the raw wound rubbed against the dry filth of his pants and kept moving. He could feel his window of daylight to search start to close and the panic overflowed from his throat into his mouth at last. 

“Loki! Loki, are you here?” He called out, picking his way through the trees as he started to descend down the mountain. It was steeper than he had estimated and Thor’s feet threatened to slip out from under him at every step. One too big step sent him skidding a few more feet than he had intended and he tossed his arms out to try and steady himself.

“Loki! Please come home, brother! Are you here?”

A sound from his left made Thor eagerly whip his head around, thinking for a second, a heart-stopping second, that his calls had been answered. The sudden change in his center of balance caused him to stumble on the next step, over flat ground and straight into a stone. His foot crashed straight into the stone, and Thor found himself tripping on the rock as his body was projected forward. Unable to regain his balance in time, he fell forward and started to skid down the side of the hill at an alarmingly fast pace, his feet hardly even touching the dirt. Scrabbling for anything to hold onto proved to be useless as Thor could do nothing but tumble down the side of the hill. 

His descent was quickly ended when, in an attempt to right himself, he careened sideways and slammed straight into a tree that he couldn’t see in the emerging darkness, head smacking off the rough wood and exploding his world into darkness.

***

“He’s over here, guys!”

Sound filtered through Thor’s brain, chunky and harsh syllables clattering against his brain and falling away from his ability to comprehend them. Heard but not absorbed, the sounds slid off Thor’s awareness like rain on a window. His eyelids refused to move even an inch to open, heavier than any weapon. His body felt as though it were submerged in solid sludge, limbs weighted down impossibly and not obeying any commands to move. The effort of trying, even something as simple as moving his hand, was so taxing that Thor let it go, not winning the battle against his own body in it’s barely conscious state. 

Thor drifted in and out of reality as his friends found him, arguing over his prone body as to the best course of action. Eventually, the discord stopped as they decided on calling Heimdall. The name lit recognition in Thor’s brain; a light that was quickly quashed by the waves of pain and stillness rolling off his brain. It was nothing less than a group effort to lift Thor and half-carry, half-drag him to the nearest place accessible by Bifrost. What he thought might be halfway through the process, Thor fell beneath the sludge for good, slipping into heavy unconsciousness.

*** 

For the second time in a too-short span of time, Thor woke up to the sharply unpleasant smell of the healing chambers. The mixture of iodine from healing ointments and lingering sulfur from magic treatments always left a bitter taste in the back of Thor’s throat, one that reminded him too much of pain and scoldings. A brief crack of his eyelids confirmed the tell-tale white walls that meant he had failed at something and gotten hurt. Many a trick or a fight gone wrong had landed Thor here in the past, usually with Loki by his side.

Loki.

The harsh snap back to reality, to a time without his brother, sent a ripple of what felt like failure through Thor’s chest, threads of pain and shame tying his heart into knots as his eyes drifted fully open. It took Thor a full second to recognize that Loki’s absence didn’t leave his bedside empty. The queen of Asgard sat next to him, regal and poised despite the smudges beneath her eyes that spoke of deep worry. Her elbows rested on the bed in a most undignified position, and she looked as if she had been resting her head there moments ago.

The relief Thor felt at seeing her quickly drained away upon recognizing the blatant anger written all over his mother’s face, spelled out in every line of her frown and angle of her posture. Her fists were held shut, knuckles white as she drew her posture up straight, chin tilted as she looked down at Thor. There was no question about it: Frigga was furious.

Thor was in so much trouble.

He tried to get ahead of the inevitable flood, opening his mouth to defend himself before she could speak a single word against him. The sound of his own voice made him grimace; the cracking and hoarseness making himself realize that this might be worse than he had feared. If the throbbing and pounding of his head was any indication, Thor had suffered more than just a few scratches. 

“You must understand, I--”

“Must I?” Frigga spoke quietly, voice under control in a way that Thor envied. The syllables were calm, each heavily weighted with eons of patience and tempered by only a mother’s understanding of her child, level of approval aside. Her lips thinned as she spoke, twisting down ever so slightly in a way that only her family would ever notice.

“Must I understand your actions, Thor? The irresponsibility of them? The arrogance, the recklessness, the stupidity? I thought better of you, my son. We both did.” 

The plural at the end was undoubtedly in reference to his father, despite the lack of Odin’s physical presence. He and his queen were known for having differences of opinion, but where the safety of their children was concerned, they tended to be in unison. The hefty weight of disapproval from  _ both _ of his parents only made the lump starting to grow in Thor’s throat more prominent.

“Mother please,” Thor protested, the need to explain himself nearly overwhelming. “You must at least hear me out. All I meant--”

Thor’s words must have triggered something in his mother, caused an eruption of her thoughts out into the world where they had previously been constrained. Her fists unclenched from their place on her lap and she leaned slightly back, away from her son as if he had offended her.

“I am quite sick of being told what I must do, Thor. Especially from my child who cannot even follow simple instructions or keep himself safe. What were you hoping to accomplish by going off alone? Were you hoping to take the glory for yourself? For rescuing your own brother? Such a childish and selfish sentiment is not what I expect from you, but these days I feel as though I have little clue as to what I should expect from you. So if you  _ must _ explain something to me, would you be so kind as to try and explain what has happened to my eldest son?”

All of the calm and patience that the queen had exuded was gone, replaced by raw upset. The downwards twist of her mouth became more pronounced as her shoulders tensed in the middle, drawing them up. Thor had not seen his mother so upset in… months. Since before Loki had left. He found himself struck speechless in the wake of her tirade, caught in the targeted hurt of his mother’s words. The accusation that she thought that he was only after the glory of a hunt and not his brother, that she thought so little of him, sunk deep. Deep enough to force Thor to put some thought into his next words, to try and fix the wrongful assumptions he was faced with.

“The search for Loki is not something I take lightly,” he started off slowly, measuring his thoughts out as though they were dueling stances. Each had to be followed by a proper one or they would all be ineffective. “He is my brother and my best friend. I...I miss him deeply, mother. Finding him is the only thing I can think of most days. The most important thing to me. My friends were moving so slowly and I fear what will happen to Loki if we do not find him soon. Surely you can understand that,” Thor pleaded with his mother as she stared at him, her face stony in her anger. 

The pounding of his head was beginning to really bother Thor and he was becoming more and more aware of the sheer amount of bandages wrapped around him. Especially around his head, Thor felt muffled and neutralized by fabric. His recklessness in the hunt for his brother was something that he could acknowledge but refused to give up. Stopping felt too much like quitting. Something Thor was unwilling to do, especially when it came to Loki. Loki didn’t  _ have _ another older brother to care for him or to look for him when he was missing. He only had Thor and Thor couldn’t let him down again.

Thor’s words must have had some effect on his mother, his carefully articulated desperate plea reaching her. The anger drained from her face slowly, inch by inch being replaced with resignation. She lowered her head back into her arms, letting her eyes fall shut. One of her hands reached out and grasped Thor’s, squeezing it tightly before just resting loosely in his grasp. 

Silence reigned supreme for several long minutes, the uneven rise and fall of Thor’s chest as he struggled through the vague pain in his head the only noticeable movement in the room. Frigga was so still that Thor had begun to question if she had fallen asleep when her eyes cracked open. She dragged herself up into a sitting position, releasing Thor’s hand in favor of clasping both her hands in her lap, firmly as if she were trying to hold herself up. She looked on the verge of something precarious that Thor couldn’t name, her eyes filled with an emotion he didn’t dare try to decipher. She looked so tired, so worn and unhappy that Thor’s heart lurched. It felt wrong, somehow, to see his mother this way.

“I fear it is you who must understand now, Thor. You are not the only one who is affected by the loss of your brother. The recklessness that you displayed in your search was unacceptable, especially for a prince. We cannot lose you as well. Tell me that you understand my words.”

Thor was only half-listening. The majority of his brain had grabbed onto “the loss of your brother” and refused to let it go, the words cycling on repeat in his mind even after Frigga had finished speaking. He could feel his heart strumming under his skin, fear and anger battling in the pit of his stomach and causing him to feel distinctly nauseous. That feeling combined with the throbbing of his brain against his skull made him want to curl into himself and close his eyes.

“No, I don’t-- I’m not, I’m not following,” he forced out through his teeth. “You speak of Loki’s loss, as though Loki is dead and he will not return. That is not true, he isn't dead. He is just lost. What do you mean, his loss? He is  _ not _ dead!”

Thor struggled to sit up, a piercing pain in his side making itself known as he fought his own body to get himself upright. Every uneven thud of his pulse sent hot anger pumping through his body, the heat from it masking the chill from the rivaling fear. 

“Thor, sit  _ back _ or you will--”

“No! I cannot simply  _ lay _ here while Loki is out there, he is out there and alive and  _ I _ will be the one to find him, to bring him home, I swear it--”

The commotion Thor was making began to attract the attention of the healing assistants, who uncertainly poked their heads into the doorway to see if Frigga needed assistance. She waved them away impatiently and put a hand on Thor’s chest as firmly as she dared, feeling the erratic beat of his heart. Sympathy for her oldest son broke her heart and she gentled her tone as she spoke again.

“Please, darling. I really must insist that you lay down. You are still injured and recovery  _ must _ be your first priority.”

Thor did not respond to her words, although his struggle diminished, making Frigga think that she had won. She raised a hand to her son’s hair, only to be startled by a rush of air as Mjölnir smacked into Thor’s palm from its resting place in the corner of the room. Summoning it back to Asgard had been one of the first things Odin had done upon Thor’s abrupt return, placing it in the corner for a visual reminder to his son of what it meant to be worthy.

Thor just barely managed to raise Mjölnir above his head, arm protesting the pain by trembling through intense shocks of pain. He made to throw his hammer when a pulse of magic from his mother caused his arm to fall limp, Mjölnir more falling to the floor than being set down as his arm fell back in place on the bed. 

Frigga placed a hand on her son’s chest, drawing two runes that connected in the middle. The lines glowed white with seidr, sending a sickeningly constricting feeling spiraling right into Thor’s heart. As she drew the last line, Frigga spoke words that Thor was unable to understand but knew was seidr. The runes glowed brightly before fading and disappearing into his skin, leaving Thor with an ominous feeling sitting heavy in his chest. 

“What was that?” he asked hollowly, bringing a hand up to clench over his heart. The urge to fight, to run and to save was still riding high in Thor’s throat, and he tried to push it down. A voice in the back of his head, that didn’t sound at all like his own, cautioned him against lashing out, telling him to hold on for just another moment; just one more moment, Thor.

“For your own protection, Thor.” Frigga’s voice was markedly unhappy as she twisted her hands in her lap, clearly uncomfortable with spelling her oldest son. His mother and brother typically refrained from using or discussing magic in front of Thor, and the breach of tradition was unwelcome. 

“A spell to keep you on Asgard. You will not be able to leave the palace while it is in effect. Your father and I both agree that it is the right thing to do for now. It will not be permanent. Just until we have more confidence in your actions.”

Frigga’s words echoed in Thor’s mind, their meaning swirling around and around until it sank in, so deep that it seeped into his bones. His very body ached with the truth of the words, what she meant and what she intended Thor to accept.

He couldn’t find Loki if he was trapped in the palace.

His parents didn’t want him searching for Loki.

They didn’t believe that he could be found.

They thought Loki was dead.

A spike of unadulterated despair crushed Thor, leaving him crippled under its weight. His chest felt too heavy and too small for his lungs to expand even an inch, leaving him breathless and fighting to take in any air. An insurmountable feeling of being drowned came over Thor, a feeling of struggling painfully for a surface he couldn’t see and couldn’t reach. He had to fight against it, had to make it up and make it out. He dragged in a breath, lips shaking as he tried to force himself to breathe and try to see above the anguish weighing him down. Tried to see a way out. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to keep the tears that pressed heavily against his eyes at bay. 

“He can’t be, mother. He can’t be. Surely he can’t… he can’t be…” 

Warm arms encircled Thor, gathering him close and pressing him to his mother’s chest with such ferocity that Thor felt himself fall beneath a wave of grief that was far over his head. Stopping it was nothing short of a fantasy. Unabashed sobs tore themselves painfully from his chest, each one ripping itself out of Thor and leaving him bleeding. The guilt and horror and injustice that Thor felt lent themselves to genuinely loud cries that were only partially smothered by the comfort of his mother. 

Frigga smoothed her hand over Thor’s dirty hair, holding her son close as grief physically rocked his body. Loss was such a new feeling to Thor, tragedy something he had never before personally encountered. To have his first loss be something so close, so deep and pivotal to himself, was to almost destroy him. Thor felt unbearably young, felt as if he was still merely a boy, not yet ready for any of the things that came alongside such a tragedy. His mother rested her chin on top of his head and squeezed her eyes shut, tears falling into Thor’s hair as she mourned the loss of her son. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today wasn't the posting day but I saw 420 hits and absolutely could not resist. Here's where the pain starts in earnest! Enjoy.

Two year’s time had done next to nothing to dull the sting of Thor’s wounds. His body had healed quickly but the scars left upon his soul still felt just as raw as they had the day Loki left.

No, not left. Died.

Asgard had quietly mourned for their prince; the second son being presumed dead after a fruitless year of searching. Mourning was a somber event across all the nine realms, but for bright and lively Asgard it felt particularly heavy. People forgo their usual colorful clothing and elaborate hairstyles for simple cloaks and tunics of black. Particularly depressing is the lack of alcohol and elaborate feasts consumed during the period of mourning to honor the dead. How broad the mourning spanned depended on the popularity and legacy of the person being mourned. For Loki, the public bereavement lasted months, everyone unsure of how to proceed. Never had Asgard lost a son in circumstances other than glorious battle, which was to be celebrated and not mourned. Of course it was assumed that Loki had taken his proper place in Valhalla, as any son of Odin would, but since the circumstances of his death were unknown it left a certain amount of doubt in the air. The people were shell-shocked, whispers of intrigue swirling in the air behind closed doors and over the rim of a mug as Asgard adjusted to the new royal family.Slowly, people began to move on from the public loss. In time.

Two years after his death and Asgard was all but back to normal. Her feasts had resumed, people danced in the streets once more and lived their lives out loud. The black shrouds and dark moods started to fall away one by one, Asgard’s second son being toasted less and less as newer intrigues and gossips began. News of possible wars and stories of Vanaheim royalty gradually replaced Loki until his memory was just that: a memory.

It was this way to all but Prince Thor. 

Asgard’s remaining son no longer wore cloaks of red or armor of gold, refusing to wear anything other than the honorary funeral robes meant to honor the deceased. It made normally celebratory occasions a grim reminder of what the royal family has lost. He remained one of the stark reminders of what they had lost, what the royal family had suffered and was now left without. Refusing to let people forget felt like keeping Loki alive. In a sense.

“It is simply not  _ appropriate _ , Thor. Today is meant to be a day of celebration, a well-deserved day of festivities for your father’s warriors. It is practically disrespectful to wear such miserable clothes,” Fandral argued, gesturing wildly at Thor’s dark attire. 

The prince was indeed not dressed for a day of conviviality. A black cloak was draped over his shoulders, the tunic beneath a dull shade of grey. He was lacking the usual gaudy buckles and flashy belts that marked him a prince, even the belt that normally holds his weapon was absent. Like this, Thor looked just the same as any Asgardian in mourning. Just as he intended. 

“I mean, honestly, one of the most powerful sorcerers in the Nine Realms is arriving today and you look as though you just attended a funeral,” Fandral critiqued, the sense of pride he takes in his vanity spilling over to the appearances of his friends. Fandral’s outfit was as outrageous as usual when young women were expected to be in attendance. The colors were so bright that they almost hurt Thor’s eyes, his shirt so form-fitted that his waist looked almost entirely fake. Thor had the strongest urge to roll his eyes at him.

“My joy at Asgard’s triumph does not overshadow the sorrow of my loss,” Thor replied steadily, clasping his cloak at the shoulder and kneeling down to fasten the ties of his boots. Even his shoes were dull; nothing suited for a crown prince of his prestige. Had the circumstances been different, any different at all, Thor is certain his parents would have said something to him about it. As it was, they barely spoke now, conversations limited to trivial things. Nothing of importance, nothing of emotional value. Nothing related to the one subject they all desperately avoided.

None of his friends knew how to respond to that, sharing troubled glances with each other. The normal period for mourning had well since passed, but it’s not like they could simply tell Thor that he was being unreasonable and Thor knows that. Is glad for that fact. He didn’t think he could handle it if any of them tried to speak to him as if they understood. The loss of a brother was not something that any of them had ever experienced. 

A brother.

Just weeks after Loki’s officially declared death, his parents confided in Thor the truth of his brother’s origins. That they weren’t related by blood, that they were brothers only in name and in heart. Had the timing been different, perhaps Thor would have reacted to the news differently. He had listened silently, taking in the information and storing it somewhere in his numb brain. All things considered, the fact that he had just lost his best friend and only sibling, it just hadn’t seemed that important to Thor. It still didn’t. So what if Loki was adopted? Thor knew that it didn’t change anything: his love for Loki, their shared parents and childhood, all of the memories that only time could eventually take.

The fact that Loki was gone forever.

Even the queen seemed to be faring better than her son. She had reappeared in her usual social circles a month after Loki had been declared dead, quieter with the peculiar aged sense of wisdom that often came alongside tragedy. She carried herself with dignity as she always had, but if one looked closely enough, they could see the considerable burden the Norns had set upon her delicate shoulders. Odin had taken the least time to mourn, merely hours after the public announcement had seen him return to the throne room. It was expected of a king to take tragedy in stride, to remain strong and unaffected.

The same was expected of the crown prince, but Thor had never been known for his skill at following the rules.

Below the room in which the prince and his warriors stood was the golden city, full swing into a celebration. People lined the streets, purchasing deliciously aromatic food from street vendors who called out their wares in booming voices. Flags and banners hung from nearly every available surface, blazoning the colors of Asgard in triumphant victory. Today celebrated the millennial anniversary of Jotunheim’s defeat at Asgard’s hands. A reminder of the day that the monsters were brought down, the day the light conquered the dark and good vanquished evil.

Supposedly. 

Ever since learning the truth of Loki’s parentage, Thor has been a lot slower to condemn the Frost Giants. Less quick to call them monsters and scorn their lack of humanity. If his beloved brother could be one of them, could they truly all be monsters? 

Despite his newfound doubts and general lack of festive spirit, Thor found himself still somewhat excited to witness today’s events. If nothing else, it would provide a change from the drudgery of his daily routine. Gathering his friends, he followed their enthusiastic chatter all the way into the thick of it, barely noticing the elbows being nudged into him as people jostled for a good view of Asgard’s main road. The Asgardians were eagerly awaiting the delegations from other realms, who would be arriving shortly to join the festivities. The representatives from Vanaheim had already arrived and Alfheim’s royal family was expected soon. It was always a spectacle when delegations arrived. The members of the delegation would often wave to the crowds, the particularly rambunctious realms tossing trinkets or coins into a frenetic crowd.

As a member of the royal family himself, Thor was expected to be on the balcony overlooking the processions with his parents. Odin and Frigga were already seated in their place above the rest of Asgard, and detached from the excitement and base nature of the crowd below. Thor had wanted to experience the festival firsthand, with his friends by his side in a mimicry of what he would have enjoyed a few years ago. 

He had been true to the promise he made his mother, not even trying to leave Asgard in the weeks following his injury. Thor was too heartsick to even consider it, the idea of leaving home (the last place he had seen Loki) bringing despondent feelings to the surface of his mind. It rendered his mother’s binding runes ineffective, and she had quietly removed them not too long after.

He was hoping desperately for any alleviation of the weight that tagged his heart and always seemed to drag his spirit down. It was not that he wanted to forget his brother, he just wanted to forget his grief for a time. There were no battles, no wars, no lessons interesting enough to keep his mind off it. The absence of his brother at his side left a hole that Thor tried to heal with his dark clothes and remembrance. Today, however, he was looking forward to trying a new way of healing it.

A sudden cheer rose up from the crowd as exclamations of joy and greeting pierced the air. Thor looked towards the source of noise with a distant interest, immediately recognizing the elaborately built procession of Nidavelir. The dwarves had arrived before Alfheim. That was sure to create uninteresting drama that Thor would be forced to listen to later in the feasting hall. Someone was guaranteed to get offended and speak poorly of another, who would then hear it and challenge the slanderer and so on and so forth. After a while it truly lacked any excitement.

Fandral made a sound of disappointment at the lack of dancers that usually accompanied Alfheim’s arrival, only to receive an elbow thrown at his side from Sif. Volstagg laughed heartily and shoved the back of Fandral’s head, affectionately calling him a scoundrel. 

Thor, who despite standing only a few feet from them, felt as though he were watching his friends interact from another realm. The invisible sheet of glass that had existed between him and his friends since the botched search party had never felt more real than in that moment. Frustration spiked in his chest and left Thor feeling as though the air around him had different qualities than it did for everyone else. It must, for him to be so separate from the rest of the world. 

It was almost as though the world were waiting on such a realization from him. Even though he had just seen it all moments ago, everything around him felt horrible and different, like he had never set eyes on any of it before. He felt like a foreigner in his own home. The cheers of what had before been a joyous people now grated against his ears, sounding obnoxious and cruel. The smell of food surrounding him could only be described as curdled and Thor grit his teeth against the onslaught of unpleasant sensations. He let himself drift behind his friends, watching as they kept moving forward without him, not noticing as he began to make his way against the flow of people and out of the crowd. Thor grasped the front of his cloak with his hand, clenching it in his fist as he slipped through the streets back towards the palace. It wasn’t like he had nowhere to turn when things became unpleasant. He could at least join his parents, where quiet tended to fall. 

The stones beneath his feet were familiar and worn as he studied them, taking the path that he didn’t need to see to know. Bitterness twisted in his breast at the abrupt failure of his attempted outing. This was meant to be a turning point, a day of celebration that he could enjoy. So many failed attempts. There had to be something wrong with him, didn’t there, to be so deeply affected? These thoughts carried him forward, one step followed by another and then another lulling his mind into a steady rhythm that was shattered by an abrupt hand to his chest. 

Startled, Thor looked up into the face of a man who very obviously wasn’t from around here. It was the eyes that gave him away. They were such an intense blue that they bordered on purple, the centers seeming to swirl with things that inspired both fear and warmth inside of him. Thor recognized him almost immediately, and even if he hadn’t it would not be a difficult guess. All of Asgard was awaiting his arrival, the wizard from Vanaheim that was expected to arrive today. Thor could feel the subtle aura he gave off, unknowably powerful yet oddly subdued at the same time.

“Prince Thor,” the sorcerer announced, no preface needed and none offered. “It is crucial that I speak to your parents immediately. This way, now please.” With no further explanation, he grasped Thor’s arm and proceeded to pull him in the direction Thor had already been going. Thor wasn’t sure how the man knew where they were going, but had just enough presence of mind to know better than to question it. The man’s touch was hot, almost burning his skin wherever it made contact, but the feeling was not entirely uncomfortable. It felt almost grounding. It felt real to Thor, which was something he so rarely had these days. 

It was mere minutes -or was it seconds? Thor truly couldn’t tell - before they arrived at the balcony, the wizard boldly pushing the privacy curtain aside and bowing briefly before addressing Odin. Addressing the Allfather without an introduction, or even permission, can be dangerously rude, but the wizard seems oblivious to this.

“Allfather, the seidr in the air is completely wrong. Something has entirely thrown it off its balance. Were you aware of this?”

Odin sat up straighter, surprised at the nerve of this stranger. Like his son, he recognized his unexpected guest in moments and looks to his wife. It was she who specialized in Asgard's magical energies. Frigga stared at the sorcerer for a long minute before closing her eyes. When she reopens them, her brow is furrowed in confusion. 

“Asgard feels no different than it did yesterday or the day before.”

“And how long has it felt this way? It is twisted, harsh in a way that speaks of great harm. It feels as if the air itself is in pain.” The seidrmadr pressed, his strange eyes completely focused on Frigga.

“It has been thus for… years now,” Frigga admitted slowly, uncomprehending of the point the sorcerer was looking to make and clearly uncomfortable with that fact.

“How many years precisely, your majesty?”

“About two, I would say.”

“Around the same time your son disappeared, if I’m not mistaken?”

The atmosphere took a sharp turn at that, both parents and son immediately focusing more of their attention on this strange man and his questioning. Even though the air outside was warm, blisteringly so, Thor could swear that he felt a chill in the room.

“Yes, there was a change in the seidr after Loki disappeared but I merely assumed that it was a change in my own seidr. From grief. If I may, what are you implying? You overstep your bounds.” Frigga’s voice was a little rough around the edges, as was normal whenever Loki was brought up in conversation. She seemed angered at the idea that something magic-related (Loki-related) could be going on that she was unaware of.

“Hm. I see.” Those unsettling eyes turned back to Odin, almost fierce in their questioning. “Odin Allfather, do I have permission to look deeper into this disturbance I feel?”

Odin barely seemed to consider the strange request before agreeing. He answered almost too fast, a forbidden bit of hope becoming present in his expression. It was evident in the way his eyes turned up in the corners, barely noticeable and easily overlooked. Hope for his lost son. “What do you need?”

“Oh, nothing from you. It should not take me long. A private room to focus my energies is all I require.” 

Thor was the one to lead him to one of the empty rooms in the palace, anticipation pressing like pins into his nerve ends at the mention of his brother and this strange occurrence. The look in his father’s eyes haunted him; hope that had not been present in years and had no right to be there now. Thor stood in the doorway of the room, leaning against the wall with crossed arms as he watched the wizard settle down on the floor. He could not risk getting his hopes up only for them to fall once again. The weight of it would destroy him. After shifting for a few seconds and finally stilling, the mysterious Vanir man shut his eyes. It was barely three seconds before he cracked one eye back open. 

“It is quite difficult to concentrate with the eyes of another so intent upon me.” He said mildly, and the words reminded Thor so much of Loki that his heart ached. It was something his brother would complain about often, Thor staring as he did magic. The reminder caused Thor to dig his nails into his elbow as he made up some lie, any lie that would let him stay. He had a strange feeling about this man, about what he claimed, and was unwilling to let him out of his sight.

“I am merely keeping an eye out, so that none may disturb this space whilst you are in it.”

The wizard’s smile is disturbing with all the docile knowledge and power leaking through it, the questionable intentions that threaten the edges of it. “As you say,” he remarked, humor evident in his voice as he closed his eyes once more, going still.

The sounds of the festival drift into the open door from the hallway. The clack of soldier’s boots echoes on the floor, laughing and whistling coming in from outside. The shouting and cheers of the camaraderie below. Thor can hardly stand still as his mind drifts, the familiar yet strange sounds of Asgard drawing him into himself. How did this man feel something that even his mother, the most powerful sorceress on Asgard, didn’t feel? What did it mean-- was Asgard safe? How did this involve Loki, when he’d been dead for two years now?

A startled noise from the sorcerer snapped Thor’s attention back into place, automatically reaching for where Mjölnir hung from his belt.

“What? What is it?” He asked, alarmed at the prospect that anything could alarm this strange man.

The sorcerer grunted and raised both arms into the air, a light purple glow emanating from his spindly hands. The light began to get stronger and stronger as Thor watched, pulling Mjölnir fully out into his hand, holding it securely as the sorcerer made a pulling motion, like he was tugging on something. 

Once. Twice. And again. 

Sweat dripped down the wizard’s face as Thor looked on, supremely anxious and on guard, a peculiar feeling like ants crawling around his stomach and up into his throat making him feel sick with anxiety. He inched forward slowly until he was stopped dead by a garish flash of light, heart pounding in his throat. Thor raised his arm to cover his eyes as the sorcerer made a distressed sounding noise of exertion.

A crashing thud indicated something heavy falling to the floor and Thor held Mjölnir slightly back, preparing himself to throw it if a threat presented itself. He held his aim steady as the light began to clear up, bracing himself for the worst. When the light had faded enough for the figure on the floor to finally came into view, Thor’s pounding heart screeched to an absolute halt. 

Loki.

It was Loki. Lying on the floor, looking exactly as he did the day he disappeared, on that fateful trip to Jotunheim. His face fixed in what looks like horror, eyes open and wide with his mouth twisted in a grimace, tears appearing to be frozen on his cheeks.

“Loki!” Thor cried, Mjölnir thudding to the floor as Thor jolted towards his brother. 

It was impossible to tell whether it was the loud thud or Thor’s exclamation, but Loki was suddenly and terrifyingly  _ awake _ . A horrifying scream left his already open mouth, body shaking violently as his hands reached up to claw at his eyes. Thor landed on his knees beside his brother, reaching for him and faltering when Loki twisted away from his grasp. The sorcerer stood, rocking backwards on his heels for a moment before dashing out of the room, calling for anyone that could help. Loki was still screeching, the sound echoing off the stone walls and into Thor’s ears, straight into his heart. 

“Brother--” Thor reached for him once more and Loki arched his back to get away, his palms pressing so deeply into his eyes that Thor started to fear he would hurt himself. He could feel his heart breaking, pieces splintering off and scattering themselves around the pit in his stomach from seeing his little brother this way. Thor could not stop himself from reaching for him one more time, this time gathering Loki into his arms and holding him close despite his desperate efforts to get away from Thor. Seeing Loki alive and here and  _ real _ , not just a dream, had Thor’s own hands trembling. His ears were ringing from the Loki’s deafening cries; his little brother shrieking in pain, in horror, in something else Thor couldn’t name. Loki kept twisting, trying to get away, to roll away, to escape and Thor could do nothing but hold him closer. He cradled Loki to his chest and put a hand to his hair, openly sobbing as he held his brother to his chest. Commotion and what sounded like footsteps running down the hallway became audible as Thor pressed his face to his brother’s hair. 

“Mother! Father! Please!” Thor cried out, voice coming out strangled from his tears. A startled cry from the doorway alerted Thor to his mother’s arrival, and she soon fell to her knees next to Thor, reaching out a trembling hand to her lost son. Odin stood frozen in the doorway, Gungnir a heavy weight beside him as its base connected heavily with the floor. He stayed on his feet, remaining standing, noble and regal even in the face of his son’s continuously tortured screams. 

Frigga tried shushing her son, stroking his face and trying gently to pull his hands away from his eyes. Loki kept screaming, howling in pain for what could have been hours or minutes, until his voice started to go hoarse with the strain of it. Thor never relinquished his hold on his brother, barely moving to allow his mother space beside them.

With tears streaming down her face, Frigga finally pressed her hand to Loki’s forehead, keeping it firmly planted although he tried fiercely to pull away. In seconds, he went quiet and his body fell still, hands falling from his eyes as they closed. Thor stared at the prone figure in his arms, time itself suspended in his disbelief. Hesitantly he brushed Loki’s hair back from his closed eyes, stomach clenching at the deep red scratch marks now outlining his brother’s eyes. Loki looked like Hel. 

In fact, the more closely Thor looked at Loki the more obvious it became that he was not the same as on the day he disappeared. He was skinnier-- much skinnier, to the point where he weighed almost nothing in Thor’s arms. His skin was far beyond the normal pale that he had often been poked fun at for. It no longer looked human, bordering on white and gruesomely paper thin. Loki’s hair was lanky and longer than Thor remembered, but despite it all, his clothes were still perfectly intact, which is what had given Thor the impression that he had remained unchanged. 

A hand on his shoulder drew Thor away from his thoughts, his red-rimmed eyes meeting the eyes of his mother that mirrored his exactly. The startling blue, outlined with red and overflowing with something akin to fear. He stared at her, silently pleading for the answers he knew she didn’t have. She couldn’t have them. Thor didn’t even know what the question was anymore, much less how to find the answer. 

Frigga reached for her lost son, her clear intentions to draw him into her arms stopped short by Thor, who held Loki closer to his chest, cradling him protectively. He curved his shoulder to cover most of his brother’s chest, which wasn’t hard considering just how little there was to cover. Loki’s heartbeat echoed faintly, Thor pressing his head to Loki’s frail chest in order to catch a glimpse of the sound. “He’s alive,” Thor murmured, more affirmative than disbelieving.

“Thor.” His mother’s voice was not what Thor wanted to hear right now. He could tell that words had been spoken, could vaguely understand them, but heard them as though they had been swept away by a strong gust of wind. The closer his mother reached, the further Thor drew Loki in to himself, staring at the gaunt face that clearly belonged to his brother, but looked as though it could not. This face was too pale to be Loki. Too thin, the skin stretched too tightly over his bones and looking like it was going to snap. The hair was too haggard, the circles under the eyes too prominent. But as Thor traced his fingers under those eyes and over the cheekbones, he had to admit it was the same facial structure that he knew belonged to his brother. He had seen this face enough times, spent enough centuries around it that he knew he could not be mistaken. This was his brother.

It was Odin that got through to Thor, stepping behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. When Thor met his father’s eyes, they were a strange expression that he had never quite seen before. There was grief, certainly, and dread. Thor thought that he could still see that queer hope there, lingering somewhere behind the graveness and rigidity in Odin’s eyes. 

“Come, my son,” The Allfather’s voice was strangely gentle, persuading Thor to loosen the tension in his shoulders just the slightest bit. His father was here and all would be well. Centuries of guidance and protection by his father’s hand told him that he would be safe now. They both would. “Let us take your brother to the healers. Release him, Thor, so they may take care of him.”

No amount of convincing could get Thor to let go of Loki; he carried him all the way to the healing wing and set him in the bed himself, sitting down heavily by his side.

***

It took only 6 hours for Thor to become unbearably antsy again. The numbness and despair that he had waded through for the last two years had dissipated, leaving him with nothing but anxiety and fear powerful enough to make him want to tear his own heart out with his hands. He sat beside his mother at Loki’s bedside, anxiously watching what felt like a swarm of healers tend to him. Every hand that was placed on his brother made him twitch and he wanted to yell at them all to go away. He wanted his brother to open his eyes and be whole and hale again, not lay there despondent and looking inches from death.

“He should be awake soon, right Mother? Surely he will wake soon, he must wake.”

“Thor, what your brother has been through… I cannot even begin to imagine. Let him rest while the healers do their work.” Frigga’s composure was admirable. She had what her son so desperately lacked: patience. Those who knew her well could see the latent signs of her stress in the strain around her eyes, the tight set of her mouth and the clasp of her hands in her lap.

Thor punched the outside of his thigh lightly, almost absentmindedly, bouncing his curled fist up and down, echoing repetitive thuds throughout the room. “But it has been--”

“Thor,” Frigga spoke gently, taking her son’s hand in hers to stop the continual noise. Her eyes spoke equally of sadness and hope, two conflicting spheres of life that interacted more than was commonly known. “I want him to wake, as well.”

Her words were earnest enough and spoke enough to Thor’s own sentiment that he allowed himself to try and settle down. It would be so much easier if he didn’t feel as though his chest was going to explode and his stomach was tying itself in painful knots, over and over and over.

He was practically an adult by Asgardian standards, and his impatience was hardly befitting to one who would someday wear the mantle of king. Thor needed to collect himself, to bear this situation with grace and the patience of a king. 

Hardly two minutes passed. 

“Is there not  _ anything _ we can--”

“Thor.”

***

In the end, it was a little over sixteen hours before Queen Frigga was convinced to let her youngest son surface from the spell he was under. Releasing her seidr, she gripped Loki’s hand tightly in hers, brushing his hair back. She and the other healers had helped clean him since his return, but his hair had not regained any of its former shine. It still hung lank and loose around his face, looking like it could be easily torn off at any moment. 

Thor had not strayed far from his brother’s bedside in the time he had been asleep. He was sprawled out in a chair by the window, staring at the dark sky outside. Even the Allfather had seemed to find a few minutes away from Asgard to spend with his family. He stood a few feet from them, immersed in a quiet conversation with the healer tasked with overseeing Loki. 

To anyone that was paying attention it was immediately obvious the second Loki started to awaken. His muscles stiffened and locked, body tensing up so much that he seemed to rise ever so slightly off the bed. His eyes screwed tightly shut, head turning sharply to the left like he was straining away from something. A strained whimper left his mouth, sounding like he was trying hard not to make a sound. 

His mother reacted instantly, leaning over him and stroking her thumb over his knuckles. “Loki? Are you awake, darling?” She studied him intensely as Thor shot up from his chair and was by Frigga’s side in an instant. Odin paused his conversation with the healer, beckoning her to follow him as he moved to Loki’s other side, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder like he had done thousands of times before. A symbol of trust and protection.

Odin’s touch seemed to either cause a breaking point or coincide with an already close one. As soon as the Allfather touched him, Loki snapped like a rubber band that had been stretched too taut. That same horrendous scream burst from his throat, sharp around the edges like it had been held in for too long. Everyone in the room flinched at the wordless scream that was so obviously full of agony. The harshness of the sound spoke of a suffering that should never be experienced. The kind that begged for only one type of mercy. 

Frigga held her ground against both her pain and her son’s, squeezing his hand even tighter and leaning in to try and speak with him. “Loki, my love, it’s us. It’s your family. We are here and you are safe.”

Thor had crossed his arms, nails digging into his biceps so tightly they threatened to draw blood. The sound of his brother’s pain was completely unbearable. It went against every atom of his body to be so close to his brother’s suffering and to do nothing about it. He looked up at his father, a pleading expression in his eyes when he finally caught his father’s glance. 

“ _ Please _ , there must be something we can do.”

How the Allfather heard him over Loki’s screams was a mystery to Thor. He must have, though, for he gave a wordless response. The hand still resting on Loki’s shoulder despite his thrashing gleamed gold as Frigga’s sleeping spell trickled through Odin’s fingertips. Loki twitched violently twice before fading back into the quiet that somehow haunted everyone more than the screaming. 

The disturbing silence reigned until Thor felt full to bursting with words and a desire, a  _ need _ , to act. 

“What do we  _ do _ ?”

Nobody answered him. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor leaned over the bed and entirely too far into his brother’s personal space just in time to see Loki’s closed eyes blink sluggishly, like he was…
> 
> Like he was truly waking up for real.

Both the healers and the queen agreed that it was best not to wake Loki again. The spell would wear off in its own time and he would wake when his body was healed. 

Thor had taken to sitting vigil by his brother for a few hours everyday. The time he spent there was strictly policed by his mother, who made sure he spent time doing other activities as well. She insisted that it wasn’t healthy for him to spend so much time around his brother in this state, doubtlessly worried about the far-away look Thor knew he must have on his face. But for a few hours a day, he was permitted. 

Thor spoke to Loki as he sat, telling his brother tales of whatever came to mind. Sometimes it was just stories of the day. What he had eaten for meals, the lessons he had attended or whatever hilarious joke Fandral had told. Other times, he occupied himself with telling Loki tales of the adventures he had been sorely missed from. Thor described the shade of their mother’s new dress, and lamented the shortage of mead that had taken place at the last feast. He found himself never running short on material, having saved up two years worth of things he wanted to tell his brother. 

“I truly did miss you, you know. When you disappeared… we all feared the worst,” Thor said wistfully one day, nearly a week after his brother’s return. He was fiddling with the strap of Mjölnir as he spoke, unable to look at his brother when saying such words. “Everyone thought you were dead.” Everyone but me, he wanted to say, but it wouldn’t be the truth. Thor had  _ hoped _ Loki was not dead. The distinction was crucial.

Thor was so preoccupied with not looking at his brother that he missed the twitch of his hand. It was easily missed in the haze of longing and grief that had followed Thor around for the last two years. Although Loki had returned, Thor still did not have his brother back. There was still no one to make fun of Thor, to mock his actions and sting him with sharp words only to comfort him moments later. There was no one to make Thor feel like he wasn’t flying apart to pieces, no one to rationalize his thoughts when they were too clouded with anger to properly see.

Unable to bear the direction has thoughts had taken, he pushed himself up abruptly as the chair loudly scraped the floor. “Well,” he began, before being startled into silence by an unexpectedly loud screech. Loki’s eyes were not open, again they remained screwed shut as he attempted to curl in upon himself, apparently unable to stop screaming. The sound never failed to break Thor’s heart and he reached for his brother, a tinge of bitterness arcing through him as Loki twisted viciously away from his touch. 

“Stay calm, brother. I will go get help,” Thor said solemnly, already calling for the healers as his feet hit the floor. 

***

The sharp clang of swords making contact provided a sharp contrast from the silence of the room. Thor held up a hand to indicate his need for momentary rest as he wiped at some of the sweat pouring from his brow. 

Heimdall leaned on his sword, seemingly amused at the prince’s need for a break. “Winded already, young prince?”

“I just-- require a moment,” Thor managed not to gasp out, regaining just enough control of his breathing to modulate his voice. They had been sparring going on half an hour now with no break from the consistent clashing of their blades. 

“What has you so riled up today, my prince?” Heimdall asked, curiosity just barely tinting his impassive expression. The gatekeeper could rarely be found outside of his observatory, but Thor was surprised when he had easily been able to convince him to step outside his work space to spar. It was a usual routine for the prince to come see Heimdall after lessons to discuss anything he didn’t fully grasp or just found interesting. The past few days, Thor had been unlively to say the least, and the concern reflected in golden eyes helped, at least in part, to explain Heimdall’s willingness to indulge Thor today. 

“I know this may sound childish, but my lessons were just so boring today. There was not a single interesting thing! Was there nothing of note in Asgardian history, or are the tutors merely keeping it from me? I am to be king someday, I should be learning more important things than the names of every notable soldier from battles fought millennia ago.” Thor just barely managed to keep his tone from sounding whiny. Whether it was actually his lessons frustrating him or not, he was just happy to have an actual outlet. A tangible cause of his frustration that maybe he could do something about. They  _ were _ boring, to be fair. Concentration had not been Thor’s friend during his studies today.

“That you will be king is the reason these lessons are important.” It was not unusual for Heimdall’s tone to be smothered by a thick layer of patience. Dealing with two young princes that had a stunning propensity for mischief and fighting would do that to anyone. “If you are to rule Asgard you must understand her history and learn from the examples those before you have set.”

Thor lifted his blade once more instead of answering, the sour expression on his face surely giving away the fact that he didn’t precisely care. What sort of gatekeeper would Heimdall be if he didn’t see right through Thor? He lifted his own sword to match the prince’s, the sounds of their practice bout soon overtaking all conversation. The longer the sounds of metal on metal rang out, the more grunts of exertion and sweat that fell to the floor and the more tension seemed to drain from Thor’s shoulders. 

It was minutes later when neither had conceded anything except a momentary pause to catch their breath when Heimdall spoke again. “Perhaps you should go see your friends, Thor. They have always been good at helping you take your mind off things.” Once more Thor didn’t respond and once more their blades met in the air, sparks falling from the point where they joined.

  
  


***

Thor could not remember when the Warriors Three had become so damn _persistent_. After the news of Loki’s survival broke, they dogged him even more heavily than when they thought Loki dead. At least before they respected his grief and let him somewhat be, worrying from afar. But now that the circumstances had changed and the world was all but upside down, it was almost as if they couldn’t stop themselves anymore.

Whenever Thor emerged from his rooms, he had at least two shadows. Fandral or Hogun often accompanied him to breakfast and to training after, chattering avidly the whole time in Fandral’s case. Hogun talked significantly less, which was not unusual, but the silence had begun to unnerve Thor of late. The screaming that usually followed it when he visited his brother warned him against it. 

Volstagg suddenly never missed an opportunity to train with his friends when he was historically prone to blowing off a day or ten to cook or be at home with his family. He insisted that he was trying to get more in shape, patting his stomach and laughing boisterously when asked about his increased presence at the training grounds.

Even Sif, who Thor had been on the best terms with before everything went to Hel, accompanied him like never before. Instead of scoffing at his outrageous nights out on the town with friends, she was now one of the strongest proponents of them, encouraging him to go have fun and clear his head. 

None of it made any sense to Thor, and it felt worse than the pity. The pity he had been able to handle, barely, but this intense friendliness and apparent need for him to not be alone was really getting on his nerves. It was almost as if his friends no longer trusted him, which was absolutely ridiculous. He had done nothing to deserve this mistrust, and it soured his mood whenever he encountered it or thought on it for more than a few seconds.

He found himself spending more and more time by his brother’s side just to avoid it. At least the silence he knew he would find there was predictable. Loki was still unconscious, any attempt to wake him guaranteed to end in disaster. There was no peace found at his brother’s side, the eminent fear of Loki’s terror ever present, but at least there was solace.

More and more, Thor found himself talking to Loki, confiding in him, just for the feeling of being heard. Having his feelings being actually acknowledged by another without being immediately followed by attempts to get him to do cheerful things, or sad hugs from his mother that threatened to suffocate him. Just the thought of talking to Odin about his feelings made Thor snort. All that was left was Loki. But the more he thought about it, the less strange it actually was to Thor. Even had Loki been awake, he was the person Thor was most likely to turn to. He had always listened to Thor intently, the tiny furrow of his brow indicting the seriousness he was taking his brother's words with. While it was true that Loki’s suggested solutions to Thor’s problems were often tricks that ended well for nobody, they did almost always succeed in making Thor feel better. 

He squeezed Loki’s hand in acknowledgment of this, of all of the times his brother had been there for him, and almost jumped out of his chair when he felt a faint squeeze back. 

Immediately he leaned forward, staring at his brother’s face as he squeezed again, waiting for the weak squeeze that came moments later. “Loki? You’re awake?” Thor whispered, moderating his volume the best he could in his sudden excitement. Thor’s pulse thrummed rapidly under his skin, where his neck met his shoulders and where he could feel tension gathering.

The lack of a verbal answer didn’t necessarily surprise Thor, but it did disappoint him. He had hoped his brother would finally awaken and return to him, that the moment where Loki would open his eyes and smile at Thor had finally arrived. Another squeeze to his hand combatted his disappointment, reminding Thor that Loki was in fact here. Even if only physically and very, very faintly. The curl of cool fingers over his was almost indiscernible, the pressure faintly present. 

One of the trainee healers came in for the usual rounds and noticed Thor’s excitement. Normally, the healers took vital signs through the soul forge, avoiding touching the patient as much as possible. Loki’s vitals were weak and necessary to monitor, but he reacted extremely unpredictably to touch. This healer was quite new, and either wasn’t aware of this or had forgotten. Her eyes were wide as she came closer, looking for any indication that she might be needed.

“Did something happen, my lord? Has he woken?” She asked, coming around to the other side of the bed to inspect her patient, lifting his wrist to feel for his pulse as soon as she saw his eyes were shut. To be fair to her, it was protocol and she was just trying to do her job. Thor couldn’t even open his mouth to warn her.

Incredibly predictably, as soon as someone other than Thor touched him, Loki went bezerk. He yanked his arm away from her harshly and the grisly screaming began once more. The now horrified healer clapped her hands over her ears as two of her superiors poked their heads into the doorway, one of them coming over to her and not unkindly guiding her away from Loki.

Thor put his head down on the side of the bed, forehead resting on Loki’s hand where it was still clasped with his own as his brother writhed and screeched like he was being tortured. The other healer, Sigyn, Thor thought her name was, gently put two fingers on Loki’s forehead and let the magic flow through them into his mind. In the few seconds it took to calm his brother, Thor felt his shoulders start to shake and a pressure build behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut and placed a kiss on Loki’s hand, holding it tighter before releasing it and standing abruptly. 

He was out of the room before Sigyn even looked up. 

Thor practically sprinted down the halls of the palace, all but pushing people out of his way in his hurry to get back to his room. He knew that his behavior would be excused. He was a prince of Asgard, and his rage was seen far more kindly than his sorrow. 

Thor slammed the door shut behind him, shoulders shaking from the unavoidable force of sadness that had been creeping up on him, encroaching on his mind for days, weeks, months. He could feel the tears behind his eyes and the sharp pain in his heart that scratched and clawed at the walls of his chest, begging and screeching to be let out. 

It was so unfair. All of it. Loki had returned to them, but not really. He was a husk of the brother Thor loved and missed so dearly. An entire chunk of Thor’s heart had been torn out and missing for two years, only to be tossed back at his feet in a mangled mess, looking broken beyond recognition. It was unbearably cruel.

He leaned over his desk, bracing himself as his body was wracked by sobs that were noticeably dry. As hard as he tried, as desperately as he wished to just release the emotion frozen in his mind, the tears simply wouldn’t come. His head ached with the pressure of needing to cry, throbbing dully in time with his heart. Every part of Thor’s body was wracked with grief except for his eyes, which remained bitterly dry. 

It was just so damn  _ unfair _ . He pounded a fist on the desk, furious at the fact that he couldn’t even  _ cry  _ properly. 

The contact his fist made with the desk felt good, right even. So he did it again, punching his fist into the polished wood again and again. The last hit saw the desk splinter beneath the weight of his grief, lurching Thor to the floor as he lost his balance along with the desk. His skin scratched and peeled off wherever it scraped against the broken pieces of desk, dotting the shattered pieces with his blood. 

Laying face down in the mess of his own making, surrounded by splinters and blood, Thor fought the urge to curl up and surrender. He would fight on, he would rise from this wreckage and continue to stand. Be strong for his family, for his brother and for his kingdom. 

Just not tonight. 

Sleep did not come easily to Thor, the rest that he did manage to wrangle was filled with that horrible shriek, with horrors he couldn’t see or give name to but that he knew existed. 

Morning saw Thor puffy-eyed and ashamed. He took one look at himself in the mirror before turning away, fist twitching with the urge to smash it to pieces. An admittedly very large part of Thor wanted to just not. To pull the drapes closed and pull the covers back up over his head, hiding from the world and all the things he couldn’t control. The urge fought against his nerves and Thor sat on the edge of his bed for several long, drawn out minutes staring at his hands. His knuckles were scratched and bloody from his tantrum yesterday, and they throbbed listlessly. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice when the bed dipped gently beside him, only startling when his mother took her hands in his. 

“Oh, Thor,” she whispered softly, running her fingertips over the bruised skin. A soft glow trailed behind her fingers, repairing the skin and sucking out the pain. Frigga lifted a hand to his face and turned it downwards to face her own. “It’s okay to hurt, you know.”

“I know,” Thor mumbled, doing his best not to turn away from his mother. He was embarrassed to have lost control, to have been so weak. He was embarrassed that he already felt like he needed to do it again, that he couldn’t be strong and hold his feelings in or just deal with them.

Thor could feel Frigga studying his face, her gaze all encompassing as she took in the deep shadows under his eyes and the way his lips drew down, leaden with tension. She ran a hand over the lines on his brow, and Thor wished she could remove the worry from his mind as easily as she removed the bruises from his knuckles. A soft smile graced her lips as she gently pulled him into her arms. Thor went willingly enough but couldn’t make himself relax into her like he usually would. Frigga rubbed his back soothingly and said nothing, just holding her child as he struggled with things neither of them could see. 

“You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s alright to let it go every once in a while, dear.” Frigga murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Thor’s head before releasing him. As soon as she did, his words spilled out in a kind of desperate rush. 

“Loki squeezed my hand yesterday. I swear he was awake and he squeezed my hand, but then the nurse touched him and, and the screaming…” He trailed off, the memory of the sound reverberating around his skull and making his head ache. “I swear he was…” 

Light seemed to dawn on Frigga’s face as she took in Thor’s words. Loki’s current state was difficult on everyone, but for Thor, to see the little brother he had always been so fierce to protect in such a manner was devastating. He just wanted his brother back, and to have him so close but so far seemed impossible. Odin and Frigga had the understanding and the patience to wait Loki out until he was better. Patience and understanding that the not-quite-adult Thor still lacked. 

“Why don’t you spend the day with Loki today? Perhaps you can keep his rest from being disturbed again.” Frigga suggested, tone light as though she were trying for casual, despite such a situation being light years away from them.

Thor leaned back from her fully at this, surprise scribbled all over his face. “But you said I shouldn’t spend too much--” Frigga placed her hand over Thor’s mouth to silence him, winking at him as she did so. 

“There are always exceptions, Thor. Not everything has to be the same everyday,” she said, voice full of meaning that reflected in Thor’s eyes as he nodded his agreement. It was the same tone Frigga used when they were boys and she would tell them in no uncertain terms that they were not allowed to have more sweets, but then would conveniently leave the room, making sure to unlock the drawer the sweets were in before she left.

In the end, seeing Loki didn’t help all that much. His brother was  _ definitely _ awake. He squeezed Thor’s hand lightly when asked questions, but Thor couldn’t get him to do it in front of the healers and the healers couldn’t exactly touch him and find out for themselves. In short, it was exactly the kind of thing Loki would do, but why he chose this moment to be playing tricks was beyond Thor.

Unless it wasn’t a trick. Unless Loki was scared.

Considering that possibility did something terrible to Thor’s breathing that he didn’t want to think about. His chest felt constricted and like he wasn’t getting enough air, like he couldn’t breathe and he was going to die. Thor actively tried to avoid that feeling, especially around his brother. It was much easier to think that Loki was just being Loki. Being mysterious and playing tricks, like he always does. He is the god of mischief for a reason, after all. It was almost comforting, making Thor feel closer to his brother than he had in the years since his disappearance. In fact, it was so comforting that Thor almost managed to convince himself that it was true.

Almost.

***

Thor must be dreaming. That was the only explanation for what he was seeing. Loki had been asleep so deeply for so long without so much as a shiver. His eyes couldn’t really be twitching, it had to be in Thor’s mind. There was no screaming. If Loki was truly on the brink of waking up for real, he would be screaming. He wouldn’t be silently stirring, as though he were merely waking up from a nap. It just wouldn’t happen. 

He had almost entirely convinced himself of this possibility when it happened again. Thor leaned over the bed and entirely too far into his brother’s personal space just in time to see Loki’s closed eyes blink sluggishly, like he was…

Like he was  _ truly _ waking up for real. 

Every ounce of Thor’s common sense begged him to go find a healer, or his mother, to come see this. To reaffirm that he hadn’t been sitting here too long and that he wasn’t just seeing things. But two months of Loki reacting negatively to everyone else’s touch warned Thor against it. If Loki really was waking up, Thor would be here to see it. He would not abandon his brother in this crucial moment.

He put his hand on his brother’s forehead, not leaning back even an inch as he gently stroked Loki’s forehead like he had seen his mother do a thousand times when they were ill, in a way he hoped was comforting. The lack of screaming he received as a response was a good sign.

“Loki?” Thor took care to modulate his voice enough that only his brother would be able to hear, not wanting to attract anyone else. “It’s okay, you are safe with me.” If it was at all possible, he wanted to keep his brother from panicking or experiencing whatever it was that frightened him so. 

Slowly, impossibly, Loki’s head drifted to the side towards the sound of Thor’s voice. Pale eyelids fluttered again and Thor’s heart rose and fell as they looked like they would finally fall open, only to remain shut. He moved his hand into Loki’s hair, running his fingers through it gently as he held his breath. He was hanging on Loki’s every move, every twitch of his eyes and shift of his head had Thor practically leaping out of his seat. His hands were sticky with sweat, the thought that he might finally,  _ finally _ , get his brother back making his heart hammer in his chest. 

Each second that dragged its way by felt like a sucker punch to Thor’s gut as he anxiously studied his brother’s face, watching as his eyes fluttered for what Thor could swear was an eternity. Surely the universe was almost out of seconds to give. There could be no more moments left to cruelly torture Thor with. This desperate hope rose in his throat as Loki’s eyes finally started to slide open. 

The whites of his eyes were visible, and Thor leaned even closer, craning his neck in hopes to see even just a sliver of the green when Loki’s eyes slammed shut again. A pained noise left his throat, barely anything more than a hoarse crackle, and Loki’s hands twitched up towards his eyes. He turned his head even further to the side, scrunching his eyes shut so tightly that it looked painful. Another noise, practically a whine, left his throat and suddenly Thor understood. The light. Loki’s eyes had been closed for months and it was too bright in here, the light was probably hurting his eyes. 

He scrambled away from the bed without hesitation, drawing the curtains in the admittedly well-lit room. The lights hanging on the walls were the next to go, Thor snuffing them out one by one until only a single light remained and the room was cast into exceedingly dim light. Thor took a moment to be grateful for the pitcher of water that Frigga had left on the bedside table, filling it with water and setting it aside as he returned to his brother. 

“The lights are gone now, Loki. You can open your eyes now. It will not hurt, I promise.” The words sounded so similar to promises Thor had made in childhood. Promises shouted across ledges and over precipes, vows to catch Loki should he fall and swearing to keep him safe. Promises that had been broken, again and again. Promises that Thor would never again fail.

Perhaps it was the same feeling of nostalgia and safety that allowed Loki to finally crack his eyes open. Although the room was dark, there was no mistaking the green of his brother’s eyes. No matter how dull, how glazed and haunted, Thor would recognize them anywhere. 

“Loki.” Thor whispered, voice weighed down and barely audible through the haze of emotion overtaking him. It seemed to take Loki a few seconds to realize he was awake, blinking slowly at Thor as though in a dream. 

The moment that dream was shattered became instantly obvious. Loki’s breathing immediately picked up pace, moving past quick and bordering on hyperventilation. Those green eyes widened, taking on a new shape as they rapidly darted around the room. Scanning for danger, Thor would guess. He took his brother’s hand and squeezed it gently in both of his, holding on for dear life. 

“Peace, brother. It is just you and me here. You are safe,” Thor promised. The same words they had been speaking to Loki for months, words about safety and promises of peace. Thor couldn’t help but wonder if they actually had any effect on his brother.

_ Thor _ , Loki seemed to mouth. Lip-reading has never been one of Thor’s talents, but this word was fairly easy for him to understand. There isn’t another chance to practice his lip-reading as his brother immediately convulses in a silent coughing fit, body jerking up as it tries to expel its insides. Thor cautiously brings the cup of water to Loki’s lips, unsurprised when he greedily grabs the water. Loki drinks in the liquid like any man that’s been deprived, uncaring of his limits as he chugs nearly the whole glass. 

As soon as the cup is empty, Loki releases it from his lips and blinks slowly at Thor as if expecting another. Thor almost smiles.

“Careful, Loki. You should not drink too much at once, you will become ill.” He reasons, setting the cup back onto the night table and hesitantly returning his hand to Loki’s hair. His fingers make smooth strokes, effortlessly carding through the clean strands as he drinks in the sight of his brother awake. “Are you…” Thor trails off, pretending to cough in an effort to obscure the weakness of his sentence.

“Are you truly awake? This time, I mean. You have been very sick, Loki. You’re… you’re back?” His voice was unbearably soft, the sound of it making Thor want to cringe at his own vulnerability. He tried to remind himself of his mother’s words, that it was okay to show weakness, to be something less than infallible sometimes. It almost calmed him as he focused on the things in front of him right now, the things that mattered. 

Perhaps it was too much to ask for, to hope that Loki would respond to him. His brother only gazed at him, body still tense despite all Thor’s promises of safety. He alternated looking at Thor with glances at the door and window, which was gratefully covered. The dim light in the room was barely enough for Thor to see how Loki’s eyes shimmered wetly. No more words were said between them, Thor content with the silence that had become their normal as he sat next to his brother. The brother that was alive and awake. It felt like enough.

Of course it couldn’t last forever. Good things seldom do. Thor got maybe 20 minutes of peace from the world outside of the room before it started to leak back in, starting with a gentle knock on the door. Although the knock was quiet and very restrained, Loki all but jumped out of his skin when it sounded. His eyes immediately widened and focused on the door, physically cringing away from the noise as he tried to make himself smaller. Thor watched as Loki clamped his teeth shut and made no effort to conceal the trembling in his limbs. He couldn’t help but wonder and despair at what could have done this to his brother, what could have brought him so low. It lit a simmering fire low in Thor’s belly, anger roiling languidly at whoever was the cause of this.

Thor made a half-hearted shushing noise, resting his hand firmly over Loki’s for a moment before rising from his chair and approaching the door. Irritation crawled up into his throat, leaving him ready to snap at whoever was on the other side of the door. Taking care to ensure that he moved slowly, he cracked the door open as little as possible to see who was waiting. Anxious eyes were the first thing Thor saw, and he relaxed his hold on the door automatically, letting it fall somewhat open to reveal his mother. A pained noise from Loki prompted him to quickly pull the door mostly shut again, limiting the amount of light that was allowed to spill into the room.

“He is awake?” Frigga asked, the twisting of her hands just visible through the crack in the door. What had once been a nervous habit on her had become a usual habit. It was more common for Thor to see his mother worrying her hands than not.

“Yes,” Thor breathed out, still vaguely in awe of the concept that Loki was back  _ and _ awake. He was alive and every thought, every prayer that Thor had over the past two years was answered.

“Will you move aside so I may enter, please?” The look on Frigga’s face spoke plainly the same hope that was currently beating within Thor’s heart. The excitement, the love, the amazement all read of family. Thor thought nothing of the request. He wanted to share the awe with his mother, wanted to banish the sadness that he intimately knew was living in her heart. Ushering her in quickly to prevent too much light entering the room, he closed the door behind her. 

She all but hurried to Loki’s side, seating herself in the chair Thor had occupied moments ago. “Loki?” she whispered, laying a hand on the empty space beside her son on the bed. Thor held his breath as he watched, waiting to see what Loki would do, how he would respond.

If he was expecting a tearful reunion, it looked like he would be waiting for a while longer. Besides turning his head away from her, Loki had no reaction at all to his mother being in the room. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence, staring at the wall opposite his bed as he blatantly ignored her. Although she didn’t try to speak again, Frigga waited for a few more minutes. As the time slowly ticked by and neither his mother nor brother admitted defeat, Thor could feel the tension in the room growing. It was climbing the walls, snaking around the room and twining itself around their bodies until Thor could hardly breathe. 

It was almost a relief when Frigga finally stood, whispering something to Loki that Thor couldn’t hear, and giving her oldest a watery smile as she tried hard not to flee the room. The tears in her eyes made Thor almost angry with his brother, for causing their mother to be upset. If Thor could feel anything but grateful to Loki for being alive, then he would be cross. 

It wasn’t until Loki slowly turned his head back to Thor that he noticed the tears in his brothers eyes as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the ABSOLUTELY wonderful art that Pokady made for this fic! (Follow them on twitter @merturias)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No,” he croaked out, tugging on Thor’s wrist sharply. The look in his eyes frightened Thor. It spoke of something wild, something unhinged pushing against the boundaries of his brother. “No, don’t go.”

Loki was moved shortly after his return to the world of the living, into a room lower in the castle. Thor could not guess why it was built or what it’s purpose used to be. All he knew was that it was very dark and had clearly been unused for at least a decade. It took at least five minutes of walking down a winding staircase, the nearest window being probably about half a mile back up the stairs. Thor took the stairs slowly, cradling a sleeping Loki in his arms as he did so and desperately wishing that his brother was heavier, harder to carry than he actually was. The ease with which Thor could carry him would have been laughable had it not been horrifying. 

When they finally arrived in the room Frigga had set aside, the only light was artificial and a wave of the queen’s hand dimmed the magic that illuminated the space. The room was circular and built out of dark stone that resembled bedrock, neatly aligned stones lining the wall in a pattern that looked like it had been intricately painful to build. The room was devoid of anything the healers hadn’t insisted was necessary: only a small bed, a bedside table, and a wooden chair remained. Anything else would be distracting, they said. It would remove from the healing process. The room felt eerily like a dungeon and Thor couldn’t help a chill when he first entered the room despite any obvious lack of drafts. 

Moving all of the supplies was easy. The challenging part of the relocation was Loki himself. When Thor had explained to him that they had to move him, he fought. He fought back hard, not letting anyone so much as near him. Even Thor seemed to be blacklisted, the betrayal from having to move him appearing to weigh heavily in Loki’s mind. They had to wait until Loki was asleep and Frigga could spell him to sleep a little heavier in order for Thor to move him. When he woke and saw the new surroundings, he was silent. The anxiety and panic that Thor had expected to see from his brother were absent and Loki was disturbingly docile. It felt unspeakably wrong.

Getting Loki to talk was even harder than moving him. Thor made sure he stayed hydrated, to heal his body, very occasionally getting him to eat. Granted, it truly wasn’t a very common occurrence but a victory was a victory. Even if it meant getting one piece of sugared fruit past Loki’s lips at a time. 

Loki was adamant that nobody else be allowed to see him. As adamant as one could be without speaking. Their mother tried to visit every so often, and she was greeted only by cold silences that somehow managed to be different from his usually adopted quiet. Loki wouldn’t talk or listen to her, wouldn’t even look at her. For a reason he wouldn’t explain, only Thor was allowed to see Loki. He yearned to hear words fall from Loki’s lips, wanted the silence to be broken in a way that didn’t make Thor feel as if he were drowning.

The screaming eventually stopped, thankfully. It happened around the same time that Thor was able to touch Loki without him flinching, about two weeks after they had moved to the darker room. Loki seemed to be gaining his mobility back at a steady pace, sitting up when Thor came in the room or using his hands to help communicate with him. 

It seemed like Loki _ wanted _ to talk to Thor, but for some reason physically couldn’t. He wouldn’t let the healers examine his throat so they were unsure if there was some kind of permanent damage keeping him from speaking. In fact, Loki stopped letting the healers near him at all. Thor was the one who brought him all his meals, who helped him clean off and talked to him. It took over his entire schedule. He woke up and brought breakfast to Loki, telling him of dreams he’d had or things on his mind as he used rags to help clean his brother. Loki’s body was still disconcerting skin and bones despite being steadily fed sugar water and the occasional fruit or sweet Thor could trick him into eating. 

After breakfast, Thor went upstairs to the library to find more things for Loki to read. Everyday he asked Loki to accompany him, and Loki only looked away from him as if he hadn’t heard Thor speak. Despite this, he read everything brought to him. Enough to make the daily library trips a necessity. After bringing the books back down to his brother, Thor would sit with him and read until lunch time, when he would go and bring back a tray of food that Loki would not eat, leaving it for him. He would excuse himself, returning to his friends for a few hours of training or horseplay. 

His friends didn’t understand what was happening, and there was nothing Thor could say to explain it to them. They were concerned about all the time he spent with Loki, in that dark room underneath the castle. But Thor always brushed their concerns off, laughing and slinging his arm around the closest friend’s shoulder. It was obvious that Thor was doing better, even in the way that he dressed. Gone were the dark clothes and mannerisms of a brother in mourning. And if his silence ever lasted just a few seconds too long, if Thor stared at nothing for a little longer than was normal, nobody said anything about it. They were too relieved to have their prince back.

After spending time with his friends and completing the tasks set upon him as crown prince, like attending meetings with his father or personally delivering messages, it was back to the dark room. He would tell stories of the day’s adventures, no matter how mundane or uninteresting, and Loki would watch him carefully. His brother alternated between sipping at the water cup that never seemed to empty and picking the sheets to threads. He would react, like raising his eyebrows if Thor had done something particularly foolish. One time, Thor swears that he saw a faint smile on Loki’s face while he was giving a humorous account of some trouble Sif had gotten herself into. But when Thor leaned closer to see clearer, there was no evidence of even the faintest smile. 

It was during one of these stories where Thor heard Loki speak. 

The day itself was nothing unusual. Thor had brought breakfast and then books, reading quietly before bringing a lunch that Loki ignored and going off to sparring lessons. His mother had caught his arm as he was heading down to the dark room and all but begged him to let her accompany him. Thor had become the accepted overseer of his brother and everyone turned to him for permission to visit or questions about Loki. The responsibility sat uneasily in Thor’s stomach but he did his best to brush it off. He agreed to his mother’s request easily, holding her arm and enjoying the light banter only a mother and son can have as he guided them downstairs. 

“Perhaps I should go in first, mother. Just to let him know that you are here,” Thor pulled away when they reached the door, knocking gently to let Loki know he was here before slipping into the room. Loki was sitting on the side of his bed when Thor came in, and he stared at him expectantly, gesturing towards the chair he usually occupied. Thor smiled at this and shook his head. 

“Not today, brother. Mother is here to see you.” He walked a few steps into the room, standing just close enough to be a comforting presence as Loki processed his words. 

Loki’s demeanor immediately changed. What little composure he had quickly disintegrated at the prospect of a change in the routine. Change had always been hard on Loki, and his reaction didn’t overly surprise Thor. Loki’s shoulders fell along with his entire posture, until he seemed almost crumpled sitting on the bed. His eyes spoke of the worry that his mouth didn’t, staring at Thor with enough intensity to be almost accusatory. 

“It is only mother,” Thor tried to soothe, putting a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “She misses you very much, you know. She just wants to see you. She is right outside, please be kind to her, brother.” 

Thor dropped his hand and began to turn back towards the door when a surprisingly strong grip pulled him back. Loki had latched onto his wrist with both hands and was looking at him imploringly. 

“Please… don’t let her in.” 

The whisper was so soft that Thor again thought he was hallucinating. It was a small sound, a little, grating thing that could easily have been a hundred other sounds. He turned fully back towards his brother, dropping to one knee in front of him. “What did you say, brother?” He asked, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. His eyes studied Loki’s face intently, noting the way his brother’s eyes were wide and his breathing was a little faster than Thor would have preferred.

The hold on his arm tightened and Thor reached up to grasp Loki’s hands with his own, covering them and holding him there firmly. 

“Please don’t let her in. Not today.” Loki was a little clearer this time. His voice was absolutely wrecked from disuse, a harsh edge that would have rendered it completely unrecognizable had Thor not seen the words come out of his mouth. Every word that left Loki’s mouth looked like it caused him pain, the tendons in his neck flexing every time he moved his lips, leaving a grimace on his mouth at the end of his words.

Thor bowed his head, bringing their combined hands down to kiss them. The fact that Loki was speaking again, had spoken to him, meant that he was recovering. Albeit slowly, but it meant something. That he would be okay again someday, that this would all be over. Hope shone like a beacon in Thor’s mind despite the subtle alarm of Loki not wanting to see their mother. None of it mattered, as long as Loki was here and alive. It didn’t matter. Time would fix all.

“Okay,” He whispered back. “I won’t.”

***

Time might fix all, but Thor wasn’t sure how much longer he could actually wait. 

He wasn’t sure when caring for Loki began to feel more like a chore than a privilege. He couldn’t figure out when Loki picking at his lunch became annoying rather than encouraging, when his nearly constant need for Thor’s presence became a hindrance rather than a pleasure. Many weeks had flown by since their relocation to Asgard’s underbelly, and yet next to nothing had changed except for the fact that Thor knew Loki could speak. Loki treated talking like a gift rather than a necessity, gracing Thor with his words whenever he felt it was necessary, or Thor left him no choice.

The only time he absolutely would not say a word was when Thor asked him what had happened in the two years he had been gone.

Nothing about Loki’s demeanor changed after he found his voice. He was still paler than death itself, looking almost thinner than the bones that kept him together. Sudden noises were rare in their basement room, but still served as unwelcome triggers for Loki’s anxiety. Any small scuffle or thud heard from the floors above would send him into a shaky mess, more often than not bracing himself against the bed and staring at the door as if he expected someone to burst through. 

“Who do you look for?” Thor practically begged his brother to answer during one of these instances, leaning against the wall between Loki and the door in a fruitless attempt to set his brother more at ease. “What do you fear, brother? Do you doubt your safety here?” 

Loki was always tight-lipped during these startles, occasionally wrapping a sickly hand around his mouth as he pressed himself further into the room as if he could blend in with his surroundings. 

As time went on, Thor found himself making more and more excuses to leave his brother’s bedside, which was starting to feel a lot like a prison to Thor. He couldn’t help it if Sif all but dragged him off to extra practice, causing him to feel so exhausted that he completely forgot to return to Loki for the rest of that day. And if Thor had more courtly duties than he had expected, well he couldn’t exactly be blamed for fulfilling his royal duty, could he?

The fewer hours that Thor spent by Loki’s side, the more agitated the latter seemed to become. It irked Thor, how much he tried to get Loki to recover, how hard he worked to get Loki to do basic things like _eat _, only to have his efforts thrown back in his face. The food that Loki would sometimes pick at soon became forgotten, pushed aside as if scorned. His words became fewer and far between, tone wrecked with something close to anger when he did speak. Loki was becoming sullen and withdrawn, the circles under his eyes growing despite the copious amounts of rest he was supposed to be getting. If Thor was bothered by any of this, he chose to ignore it, writing it off as reflected symptoms of his own agitation. When Fandral came to him one day with an exciting proposition, a quest that would take them off world to Alfheim for a few weeks to hunt a monstrous creature, Thor hardly thought twice before accepting.

Besides, he rationalized to himself on his way down the stairs to Loki’s room, it wasn’t like he was leaving Loki alone. Asgard had legions of healers and sorcerers that were more than capable of helping Loki. Their mother being a prime example. It couldn’t be healthy for Loki to only be exposed to Thor, anyways. If his brother ever had any hope of recovering, he had to be exposed to the rest of the world at some point. His stubbornness would only hurt him. Thor couldn’t be complicit in that.

None of his justifications seemed to ease Thor’s mind as he knocked on the door, pushing it open to reveal a tiringly familiar sight. His brother, sitting at the head of the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, eyes shining in the dark when his eyes settled upon Thor. There were no words of greeting between them as Thor took his customary place in the single chair in the room, placing the pointless breakfast tray on the bedside table. The food was all symbolic at this point. They both knew it would go untouched and Thor’s hope of anything otherwise was far extinguished. 

Thor offered a smile at his brother, feeling it grow wider when Loki inclined his head in response. No matter what Thor was feeling about the burden of his brother’s care, it was always rewarding to see Loki unwind himself ever so slightly in Thor’s presence. His grip on his knees relaxed and he let his feet move away from his body, the tension that seemed to spear him like a rod loosening, even if only half an inch.

“How are you today, Loki?” Thor asked, already planning his next sentences in preparation for the lack of response he was sure to receive. He wasn’t surprised when Loki let his head dip the smallest bit before looking back at Thor, a twisted approximation of a nod. 

“Good. That’s excellent. I have some news to share today, brother.” Thor let some excitement seep into his tone in hopes of interesting Loki, watching as Loki seemingly took the bait, tilting his head to the side as an indication for Thor to carry on. “There has been a tremendous amount of draugr sightings on Alfheim. The elves are quite frightened by them and have entreated Asgard to help slay the fearsome creatures. We will leave tomorrow and go hunt the fearsome creatures down. Father is not sure how long we will need to stay, but I have already informed Mother and the healers that--” Once again that alarmingly strong grip on Thor’s arm stopped him short. Somewhat irritated at being cut off, he looked up at Loki who had a completely raw and panicked look on his face.

“No,” he croaked out, tugging on Thor’s wrist sharply. The look in his eyes frightened Thor. It spoke of something wild, something unhinged pushing against the boundaries of his brother. “No, don’t go.” 

It exasperated Thor that Loki was behaving this way, a hot spike of anger rushing down his spine. It felt childish, like he was throwing a tantrum because Thor was taking away his favorite toy. “Loki, I have to. As one of Asgard’s princes, it is my duty to--”

“_ No. _” Loki asserted again, his grip on Thor’s wrist stronger this time. Thor ripped his arm away, holding it against his chest as he nearly glared at Loki, the effort it took to regulate his expression greater than he had anticipated. Thor could feel his patience fraying, rather quickly at that, like a piece of string that had been overworked. 

“What is your _ problem? _ It is not your choice to make, what I do. I must go and protect the realms, not sit here and…” Thor trailed off, his anger momentarily sidetracked by the unexpectedness of his brother’s reaction. Loki’s fists were clenched, his entire body trembling from the force of something Thor couldn’t name. His head was tilted low, chin angled towards his neck as he brought his shaking fists up to the sides of his neck, as if holding himself in place. 

“Loki, I…” Thor was stunned into silence as a disgustingly mangled sob ripped its way out of Loki’s throat, combined with the trembling of his limbs and the obscuring of his face making a perfectly clear picture of devastation. Thor hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on Loki’s wrist, making a startled noise when he suddenly had his arms full of his weeping brother. Loki didn’t appear to bother hiding his tears, wrapping his arms around Thor and holding him with a strength that he shouldn’t have. 

There were no words in any of the Nine Realms that could have described how Thor felt as he carefully rose from his chair, maneuvering his body so that he was now sitting on the side of Loki’s bed, holding his brother altogether in his arms. He stared at the ceiling as Loki drew in raking breaths, smoothing his brother’s hair as he mourned just how truly far Loki has fallen. 

Nothing Thor said seemed to reassure his brother. Although he didn’t speak, Thor could feel how scared he was. It was despairing how clearly desperate Loki was for Thor not to leave him, not to let him out of the solid rock of his grip. Loki _ needed _ him, unlike ever before and Thor found himself in completely foreign waters, floating with only the vaguest notion of how to swim. Thor sat still and continued to soothe his brother, making promises of caution and eventually swearing that he wouldn’t leave at all. It was more difficult than he would have thought, trying not to feel suffocated by the weight of his commitments. 

It was only several long minutes later, when Thor was quietly closing the door behind him that he let his irritation show plain on his face. He had little intention of keeping those promises. The good of the realms placed above the desires of one, even if that one was his little brother. He couldn’t let Loki dictate his life like that, no matter how sick he was. He simply couldn’t. A prince of Asgard needed to be flexible and strong: strong enough to do the right thing even if his stomach plummeted at the thought.

Practically storming up the stairs, Thor found himself in his father’s study where his mother and father were sitting, clearly mid-discussion when Thor let himself in. He apologized for the interruption without meaning it, pacing back and forth in front of his father’s desk as he fumed out loud about Loki. His mind was steaming with emotion, anger and confusion chasing each other around and around until Thor felt like he would snap from the pressure. His parents watched him in silence as he ranted, his mother raising an eyebrow in apprehension as she gestured for Thor to slow down. 

“Obviously I have to go. Just because he does not want me to does not mean that I do not have an obligation to do so. I have been trapped at his bedside for months, and he has no regard for my desires or my needs. The selfishness and the childishness of it all, it just _ disgusts _ me--” 

The slap delivered to his cheek stopped Thor short. He stared at his father, who was now just feet from him, eyes wide as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Odin had raised a hand and struck him. Thor. His own son. Frigga had both hands covering her mouth, eyes mimicking the shock in Thor’s with the addition of tears. 

“You have no idea of what you speak, boy. You speak of childish? You are a greedy and cruel child. Ignorant of the gift you have been given, whining of a little responsibility. How do you ever expect to be king if you cannot even handle your own brother?” Odin practically spit the words at Thor, anger simmering behind his one eye for reasons that Thor struggled to understand. 

Before he had a chance to speak or defend himself, Odin had turned on his heel and left without a word. Frigga was at Thor’s shoulder almost instantly, turning his head to the side so she could inspect his cheek. There was a red mark left behind that would surely grow into a nasty bruise later, but Thor could hardly feel it. He was still reeling in shock at the entire situation, blinking down at his mother silently. 

“He was wrong to strike you,” Frigga whispered, dropping her hand from her son’s cheek, “but he spoke the truth. Thor, do you have any idea how lucky you are that Loki will see you? You are the _ only _ one he will let anywhere near him. Do you know how much that kills your father and me? He is our son, Thor. It pains us that he will not see us.” She grew quiet, stepping back and smoothing her hands along the seams of her dress. 

When she looked at Thor again, when he looked at her in return and saw, truly saw, the pain in her eyes, he understood. Loki had returned, but not to them. His parents, who loved Loki so much and had mourned him so fiercely, hadn’t so much as been allowed to see him. They hadn’t seen him nod his head or read books like they were going to disappear. They hadn’t felt pride when Loki managed to eat half of a fruit, hadn’t smiled at him encouragingly and wiped the juice from his chin. They hadn’t held him as he cried, hadn’t held him close and been given the choice of never letting him go. 

To them, Loki was no longer dead but not alive either. He was only alive to Thor, and Thor had all but spit in the face of that. 

Guilt knocked on the back of his throat, winding itself through his stomach and making his insides turn. He understood the weight of what he had, of what he had done. Of what he had very nearly given away. Thor felt sick with it, as if he could fall to his knees and not rise for days. 

“I am… I am truly sorry, mother. I did not… I did not realize.” Thor murmured, catching his mother’s hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it in apology and holding it tightly to conceal the tremors of his own hand. Her gaze softened impossibly and she smiled at him sadly, sighing as she saw right through him.

“It’s not your fault, Thor. You are still young yet. Nobody expects you to know everything.”

Thor can think of at least one person who expects exactly that from him.

***

“Father, I apologize for my behavior earlier. It was ignorant and inappropriate. I ask your permission to remain here on Asgard during the journey to Alfheim.”

Gasps and uneasy mutters spread through the throne room, Asgard unsettled by the sight of Thor on one knee before the throne, bowed low. Thor’s blood lust was Asgard’s worst kept secret, many in fact seeing it as a strength to the prince and not a downfall. Even more unsettling was the Allfather’s reaction to such an unusual request. He stared down at his son for a very long moment, something like pride glimmering in his eye as he granted the request.

As Thor raised his head to meet his father’s eye, he recognized the pride and knew that he had made the right decision. Putting the good of someone else over himself. The good of Loki, of Asgard, before a selfish desire to run away. 

Odin said nothing more but Thor could read it all in his eye. The Allfather has always been a man of few, but important words. Thor was practiced in reading between the lines and felt the pride swell up inside of him at what he saw on his father’s face. He bowed low once more before excusing himself from the throne room, leaving lighter than he had entered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this far, and for everyone who comments! I read all of them and they make my day. I hope everyone is having a fantastic day!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I swear to you that you are safe here, Loki. Whoever hurt you, whoever you look for in the shadows and haunts your dreams, they will not find you here. Not without facing the entire might of Asgard. You are safe, my son.

“They miss you so much, Loki. Truly. You are their son, it pains them to not be able to see you.” 

Thor was relaxed in the chair by Loki’s bed, trying to convince him to at least see their parents. Sif and the warriors three had left on the mission to Alfheim, leaving Thor with more free time than he knew what to do with. The conversation, if it could be called that, with his parents had changed his perspective on his duties towards his brother. Sometimes he still struggled with frustration, with feeling like they hadn’t made any progress, but he always reminded himself of his priorities. Usually the sight of Loki, just sitting up and alive, was enough to calm him down. 

When Thor had returned to Loki the next day after he had promised to stay, it was like a switch had flipped. Loki was speaking more, and Thor could get him to eat half of a meal with a few well-placed words. He seemed more lively, more prone to emotions other than fear and sadness, as if well-maintained trust was the secret to recovery. No matter what he did, Thor still couldn’t get Loki to speak about going missing. No, his brother was always very eager to change the subject when that came up. Despite that, he was undeniably doing better. He had gained some weight, nothing remotely close to his old weight, but enough to no longer look frightening. 

Loki picked a grape up off his plate and rolled his eyes, presumably snorting at the idea that Odin and Frigga missed him. “Surely,” he said delicately, tone heavily weighed down with sarcasm. “Even if I were their son--”

“You are,” Thor interjected immediately, leaning forward in his chair so that his elbows rested on his knees as he directed an intensely sincere look at his brother. 

Loki gave him a scathing look before continuing. “Even if I  _ were _ their son, they cannot miss me that much. They would be breaking down the doors if that were the case.” He studied the grape pensively before popping it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. Whether out of caution or merely to savor the taste, Thor was uncertain.

“You do not think they desire that? They have been practically begging me to let them see you, Loki. You are their son, just as much as I am. And,” Thor raised his voice to speak over Loki, who had opened his mouth to protest, “you were gone for two years. Do you mean to tell me that you do not miss them? Not even the slightest bit, you do not miss your mother?” His tone quieted towards the end as Loki looked away from him, sulking as usual whenever he didn’t have a sharp retort to give.

“Look, I am not asking for you to forgive them.” A change of tactics was what this conversation needed. “They lied to you, certainly they were in the wrong for that. But that cannot be all that you remember. Think of what else. All that they have done for you, all of the lessons father taught you and all of the times mother gave you encouragement. You should have seen mother after you were gone. She was heartbroken, brother. We all were. Seeing them, showing them that their son is still alive, is not forgiving them, not even a little bit.” Loki still wasn’t looking at him. Thor reached out and nudged Loki’s chin slightly, applying a small amount of pressure to turn it towards him so that Loki had no choice but to look at him.

“Right?” Thor asked softly, offering a smile to his brother. He wished Loki didn’t look so lost, so trapped by just the idea of seeing his parents again. “Just consider it, okay?”

Several seconds went by before Loki nodded stiffly. Thor’s smile widened and he dropped his hand from Loki’s chin to clap him on the shoulder with an affectionately warm smile. 

“Thank you, brother. By the way, are you going to finish that pastry?”

***

Just because things seemed to be changing for the better did not erase the fact that all was not well. Some days filled Thor’s stomach with dread and it was all he could do to keep himself from coming apart at the seams with worry. 

It was the days where Loki couldn’t seem to come up with anything witty to say. The days where he wouldn’t eat even the most succulent looking fruit on his plate. The days where he insisted Thor sit next to him on the bed instead of the chair, where he looked terrified at the thought of being alone.

One of those days happened to be a day of celebration, the remembrance of Odin’s coronation. It was a yearly festival that consisted of roughly twelve hours of drinking and merriment with the other twelve hours set aside for sleeping it all off. Thor had begun the day like usual, taking breakfast from the kitchens and going to sit with his brother. The routine was so deeply ingrained, so lived-in that breaking it would feel like a betrayal, even if Thor wanted to.

Thor could tell that Loki was upset but trying hard not to be. He held himself like normal, and if Thor were anyone else he would have missed the ever-so-slight slump in his shoulders or the shaking of his hands when he accepted the breakfast tray. Loki was standing today, pacing the small room in an aggressive manner that he liked to call exercise. Thor sat in the chair, watching his brother pace as he gathered his words. They were quiet for no more than a few minutes, which seemed to be all that Loki was willing to handle.

“What is today, brother? There has been all sorts of noises that lead me to believe there is some event or other happening today.” Loki tried to ask as nonchalantly as he could, but Thor was watching carefully. And since he was looking, he saw the downward twitch of his brother’s mouth when mentioning the increased noise level. Thor shouldn’t have been so surprised. Handling noise had never been one of Loki’s strong points, and that ability had only seemed to deteriorate.

“It is the anniversary of Odin’s crowning, brother. There are more guests and celebrations in the palace today.” Thor said mildly, struck dumb by the realization that Loki would have no concept of the time or date. The only clock he had to go by was Thor, who admittedly was not always extremely reliable.

“Ah, right. What an obnoxious holiday,” Loki muttered, half to himself and half aloud. Thor snorted at the comment, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the edge of Loki’s bed.

“Why are you not out celebrating with the rest of your people? As future king, this is an important day of revelry for you. And get your feet off my bed,” Loki snapped, swatting at Thor lightly until he sat back upright in the chair. 

“Perhaps I just do not feel compelled to be merry today,” Thor suggested, craning his head backwards to look at Loki who had now taken to pacing on the other side of the room, behind him.

Loki let out a short laugh. “You? Not taking an excuse to get absolutely drunk and make a fool of yourself? I shall believe that when the Norns themselves say it.” He stopped short, turning and walking back in front of Thor, perching himself on the side of his bed where Thor’s feet had been. His face was difficult to read through what was surely a carefully schooled neutral expression, and Thor was having a hard time finding any cracks in it. 

“You should go. Go out and celebrate your father’s day, not waste it sitting in a dark dungeon.” Loki’s voice bordered on soft as he spoke to Thor, looking down at his bitten nails.

“I am okay,” Thor said carefully, not sure he liked the direction this conversation was heading. “Truly, I feel no great loss at not making merriment today.”

“Thor, you must.” Loki insisted, still not looking up from his lap. He picked at the skin around his fingernails, inspecting the cracked nails with a disinterest Thor highly suspected was feigned. “It is one of your duties as crown prince to stand alongside your father. Besides, I am perfectly fine here. I have books, which make for much more pleasant company than an annoying brother, anyhow.”

Thor cracked a smile at that, feeling the rush of familiar banter well up inside his chest. His brother never seemed to love him more than when he was calling Thor pig-headed or an oaf. Still, something felt off to Thor. But Loki was right and Thor was expected to be at the ceremonies today. He just hated leaving Loki behind, it felt odd to be standing in celebration without him.

“Would that you be by my side today,” Thor said quietly, rising from his chair in concession.

“Yes, well. We cannot always get what we want.”

***

The celebration passed slowly, almost painfully to Thor. His stomach was rolling and he was certain it had nothing to do with the alcohol. The first few hours had been pleasant, even joyous, filled with convivial toasts and loud stories of Odin’s many triumphs, told by master storytellers as the king himself sat at the head of the table. Thor had felt proud to be a part of the royal family, sharing a piece of every victory with the father who had given Thor his name. The stories never seemed to stop, the mead flowing freely and unchecked with plate after plate of food being devoured by uninhibited Asgardians. 

And yet.

Thor couldn’t help but think of Loki. With every slam of a mug to the floor, he thought of how his brother might flinch at the sound. With every bottle of wine opened, every mug of ale spilled or glass clinked in toast, Thor felt the absence of his brother at his side. With every thunderous round of applause that seemed to shake the very walls, Thor couldn’t help but imagine his brother sitting in the dark, feeling the vibrations and being afraid of something or someone that was no longer there to hurt him.

Pushing himself back from the table abruptly, Thor lifted his mug and called for silence, waiting until everyone in the hall stopped to look at him. “To my father, the great Odin Allfather, who has slayed every beast that has threatened these mighty halls, and fought his way into the peace that prospers today. To Asgard!” He toasted, raising his cup to his lips and taking a large swig of his ale. The hall erupted in cheers, echoing Thor’s toast as they all drank their fill. Thor raised his glass once more to his father, who was watching him now, before setting it down and retreating out of the hall as casually as he could.

He had to check on Loki.

The further down the stairs he got, the fiercer the tug in his gut pulled, telling him something was wrong. The stairs flew by, two, three at a time as Thor cleared them, all but panting as he stopped before the door of the darkened room. He didn’t bother to knock, instead pushing the door open and letting himself right in.

His stomach dropped at the sight, his body falling forward as he stumbled into the room, arms outstretched towards his brother.

Loki was sitting on the floor with his back to the bed. His knees were pressed up against his chest, head bowed forward with his hands pressed to his mouth. There were tears streaming down his face and his body was shaking with the force of the sobs he was stifling, chest heaving. The rise and fall of his shoulders showed that he was breathing fast, too fast, and there was some blood running out from under his hands. 

Thor rushed over to him, kneeling on the floor in front of him uselessly for a second, hands hovering over his brother as Loki rocked back and forth. He reached out tentatively, putting a gentle hand on Loki’s forearm and feeling his heart break as his brother flinched away from him. The breath curdled in his lungs and he felt tears pricking at his eyes as he reached out with both hands, pulling Loki closer to him. Thor could feel rather than hear the clunk as Loki’s knees hit the ground so that they were both kneeling on the stone floor.

At first, Loki resisted, struggling against Thor and letting out a distressed cry as his hands slipped from his mouth. Thor adjusted his hold, letting Loki’s head fall more naturally against his shoulder as one of his hands rested on the back of his head, the other hand stroking his back. He could feel the moment that Loki relented to his hold, letting himself melt into his older brother and weep openly onto his shoulder. Thin arms wrapped their way around his waist, their weight hardly noticeable as Thor held Loki to him tightly. Thor brushed Loki’s hair away from the side of his neck, pressing a kiss to his head as his brother fell to pieces in his arms. 

Rocking them back and forth gently, Thor stroked down Loki’s back firmly, letting the pressure prove that Loki wasn’t alone, that Thor was here. He whispered to his brother, telling him that he was okay, that they were safe and he was loved. It did almost nothing to stifle his brother’s cries, their intensity almost increasing.

“It was-- it was all-- all my fault,” Loki sobbed out, his hands clenching into shaky fists in Thor’s tunic, the fabric wrinkling under the force of his grasp.

“Shhhh, brother. Nothing was your fault, I promise.” Thor reassured him, feeling every single sob like a knife in his gut. His stomach clenched at every broken word, at every tear that he could feel soaking through his shirt.

“M--my fault,” Loki insisted before a fresh wave of tears caused his body to convulse.

Thor bit his tongue against his words of protest, against the implication that his brother could be complicit in anything causing him this much pain. 

“Okay, alright, shhh… It is alright. It is in the past now, brother. It is in the past and away from you now. Be still, my love.” The sweet name tumbled from his lips naturally and without a second thought. Thor loved Loki so much, loved him with every piece of his being that was currently aching at his pain. Something was amiss, tilted and broken in the universe if his brother was in this much agony. 

“Hush now, it’s okay. I am here, I am here and I am staying. I love you, I love you so much and I will protect you. I swear it. Be at peace, sweetheart. It’s okay.” His words eventually started to calm Loki, the wretched sobs soon fading into broken, hiccuped tears. Thor held him through it all, pushing Loki’s hair back and kissing the top of his head. 

Finally, finally the tears slowed and Thor could feel his brother’s breathing start to even out, his heart rate falling. Thor pulled back gently, bringing one hand to the side of Loki’s face to inspect the source of the blood he had seen earlier. There was a bloody split in Loki’s bottom lip, the startling indent of his teeth visible where the blood was trickling from. As their embrace ended and Loki brought his arms back down to his sides, Thor caught sight of blood on one of his brother’s hands as well. Gently, he took hold of the hand and brought it closer to his face, frowning at the obvious teeth marks in Loki’s palm where he had held it too firmly to his face. 

“Oh, Loki,” Thor whispered, the soft words punctuating his brother’s sniffs and faded noise from the party above. “Would you permit me to go and retrieve the supplies necessary for treating this?” 

Loki shook his head violently, pulling his arm away and into his chest. “I--it’s fine. Do not w--worry about it.” His voice was horrible, cracked and shot through with the evidence of his tears. 

If there was one thing that Thor had learned, had truly internalized, it was that some battles were not worth the cost of the fight. “Okay,” he conceded quietly, rising to his feet slowly and trying not to wince at the stiffness he felt. He had no idea how long they’d been kneeling on the floor. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Thor asked, extending his hands to help Loki up off the floor as well. His brother shook his head as he reached for Thor’s hands, grabbing them tightly as he was pulled into a standing position. Loki turned towards the bed, falling onto it heavily as he rolled over to face Thor. The tiredness reflected in his eyes was enough to make Thor swallow down a frown. Loki just looked so… exhausted and worn. He looked done. The thought made something in Thor curdle, shrivelling up in his chest and screaming at him to stop and help and do  _ something _ to help his brother.

Thor hesitated in the middle of the room, torn between wanting to go to his brother once more and leaving to give him his privacy. Loki closed his eyes before turning over one hand on the bed so that it was facing up. An invitation. Thor took it without question, glad to have the decision made for him. The bed was hardly big enough for the two of them, creaking under Thor’s weight as he settled himself next to Loki. He slid an arm underneath his brother, wrapping it around his back and pulling him close once more. Loki went easily, tucking his head under Thor’s chin and bringing his hands up between the two of them, resting on Thor’s chest. Thor draped his other arm over his brother, effectively trapping him within his arms. Where he would be safe.

Where nobody would hurt him.

Thor did not return to his own bed that night.

***

“Alright, perhaps this is not the best idea. Maybe we could--”

“Loki.”

“All I'm saying is that it might be a better idea to--”

“ _ Loki _ .”

“Fine! Fine, alright. Whatever,” Loki muttered, pacing the room with his arms tightly clasped behind his back. Thor was standing with him this time, waiting by the door for the knock they were both expecting.

Loki had finally  _ finally _ agreed to see their parents again, almost half a year after his return. If his cagey behavior was anything to go by, he wasn’t entirely happy about it either. The sole, dim light that hung from the ceiling flickered and Thor glanced up at it in interest. Loki had been unable to access his powers after his return, but he seemed to be putting out power nevertheless. His brother didn’t even seem to be aware of it, muttering to himself as he stalked around the room like an endangered animal. Thor heaved a sigh and walked over to his brother, stopping him by putting both hands on his shoulders. Loki startled, blinking up at him like his routine had been interrupted.

“Brother. Relax, please. It is just mother and father, not the entire royal court. They just want to see you alive and well. You have already surpassed those expectations,” Thor said seriously, sliding a hand up to rest on the crook of his brother’s neck as he gave him a bright smile. The idea of having all of his family back in one room, together again, tingled his stomach, contentment and something else warming his chest, ease practically leaking out of him. Loki returned the smile hesitantly, his shoulders rising and falling heavily as he took a deep breath. He didn’t bother correcting Thor that it was  _ his _ mother and father. He had already done that a thousand times and received the same steadfast denial every time. As soon as he let out his breath, a faint knock sounded on the door. Loki immediately tensed up again, his shoulders instinctively rising towards his neck. Thor kissed his forehead, squeezing the crook of his neck once before releasing it. “Peace,” he reminded his brother.

The little kisses, on the forehead or hair, had become a casual thing for Thor to do. It felt so natural, so easy to say ‘I love you’ without using words. Loki didn’t seem to mind the affection, in fact it seemed to calm him at least a small amount when he was tense. Unfortunately there weren’t enough kisses in the world to leech the anxiety from Loki’s eyes. He was entirely reminiscent of caught prey, like he knew what happened next and he was not looking forward to it. He looked about a second away from trying to run.

Thor kept eye contact with his brother until he was certain Loki wasn’t going to do anything stupid, like trying to escape the room, before moving to open the door. His mother and father stood behind it, his father taking up most of the doorway while his mother tried to peer around Thor and into the room. Thor smiled at them both.

“Please, come in,” he invited, stepping aside to let them in as they did just that.

Predictably, Frigga was the first one through the door, lifting her hands to her chest as though she were cradling her heart. She hovered by the doorway, watching Loki almost as warily as he regarded her. Loki’s posture had not relaxed in the slightest, and it only worsened as Odin stepped into the room. The three of them stared at each other for what Thor could swear was an eternity as he stood somewhat between them, trying to pretend that this wasn’t horribly awkward and uncomfortable. 

Loki said nothing to the people that raised him, but to his credit, he also did not turn away. Not even when Frigga stepped forward slowly, advancing at such a pace that Loki could stop her if he wanted to. But he didn’t stop her. Not when she was only a step away, or even when she raised a trembling hand to caress his face. He didn’t stop her as she threw her arms around him, silent tears beginning to fall down her face as she held her son tightly. Hardly a second passed in Frigga’s arms before Loki wrapped his arms around her in response, a dazed look on his face. The confusion didn’t last for long as the situation seemed to sink in, and suddenly Loki was holding Frigga fiercely, burying his face in her neck as if he were hiding. 

“My son. Oh, my son. I love you. I missed you so much, darling,” Frigga crooned, swaying in place with her arms wound around Loki, holding him tightly as his thin shoulders began to shake, the tell-tale sign of his sorrow unable to be hidden from her. Odin stepped further into the room, striding right past Thor as he joined his wife and son in their embrace. Both Loki and Frigga leaned into his arms, their hug a messy knot of arms and heads that didn’t quite fit but belonged together nevertheless. 

Loki was openly crying at this point, too swept up in the love of his parents that he forgot to be angry. All of the anger, the resentment at being lied to, at being pushed to the side and marked as the lesser son, all of it disappeared in the face of the love he felt he didn’t deserve. He could feel his knees growing weak and he simply gave in, letting them buckle. What he didn’t expect was to remain standing. To be held up by his mother and his father. To be kept strong. 

Thor could stand being an outsider no longer. He  _ knew _ that this moment was between Loki and his parents, he  _ knew _ that he shouldn’t make himself a part of it, but seeing his family finally together again was too strong a temptation. He followed his feet right over to where his family stood, allowing his mother to pull him into a one sided embrace with his brother on the other side of him, their father opposite him. Odin held his wife and his formerly-lost child with a strength that none of them had ever seen before, with the ferocity of a man who has lost and been given a second chance. 

It was several long minutes before any of them felt ready to let go, with Loki actually being the first to disentangle himself. He gently unwound himself from his parents’ embrace, holding his mother’s hand as he walked over to the bed and sat down, her at his side. Odin sat in the bedside chair, Thor leaning against the wall at his side. 

“I am..” Loki began, taking a shaky breath as he tried to clear the evidence of tears from his voice long enough to speak. “I am sorry. For everything. Please… please forgive me.” It was hard for everyone in the room to feel their heart bleed at the exact same time with Loki sounding so broken and so desperate. His voice cracked on every other word, and the sorrow leaked through his tone.

“Hush, my darling,” Frigga whispered, squeezing his hand. “Of course you are forgiven, sweetness. There is nothing to forgive.”

“Tell us what happened, my son,” Odin said softly, placing his clasped hands in front of him. The Allfather leaned forward in his chair, eyes intent on Loki as Frigga held her son’s hand tightly.

Loki visibly swallowed before shaking his head in denial. “I cannot,” he barely whispered, throat bobbing from what Thor guessed was the fear threatening to lock up his words. Thor watched his brother carefully, ready to intercede on his behalf if he looked like he could no longer handle this. There was also a certain amount of interest in Thor’s gaze. He was just as eager to find out what had happened to Loki as his parents were.

“What happened, Loki? We were so worried about you,” Frigga murmured, raising a hand to gently comb through his hair. Loki leaned into the touch as he stared at the floor. It was easy to see that he was struggling with himself; whether with the urge to speak the truth or to lie was unclear. 

“I… I…” The words were caught in his throat, the look on his face enough for anyone to tell how much pain this was bringing him. Frigga opened her mouth, likely to soothe her son and tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t need to tell them right now, but Odin held up a hand to silence her. He was still studying Loki with rapt interest, gaze steady upon his youngest child.

“Who hurt you, my son?” The words were soft when they left Odin’s mouth but that didn’t stop Loki from snapping his gaze up from the floor, locking onto Odin with wild eyes. He looked almost panicked at the concept and his eyes darted around the room, searching for something that was not there. He stared hard at the walls as if they had begun to creep closer, and the way he didn’t answer was telling. Thor’s heart ached and he the lack of response from Loki was a response in itself. Odin leaned back in his chair so that he was sitting straight at his full height. He did not carry Gungnir but was no less imposing for its lack. In mere seconds he transformed from the concerned father to the Allfather, King of Asgard. And the King was furious.

Despite this anger, his words remained soft in the presence of his family. “I swear to you that you are safe here, Loki. Whoever hurt you, whoever you look for in the shadows and haunts your dreams, they will not find you here. Not without facing the entire might of Asgard. You are safe, my son.”

The words were almost identical to the ones Thor had been telling Loki since he had returned but they seemed to carry more weight coming from Odin. Although his posture would never be described as relaxed, some of the panicked madness leached from Loki’s eyes. He swallowed once more, staring down as his throat worked and he unsuccessfully tried to still his trembling limbs. Frigga squeezed his hand again and Loki looked down at their joined hands, staring at the connection of their hands as though he could not believe it was real. He looked strengthened by it, Thor observing the way his jaw tightened and his shoulders set back an impossibly small amount.

“Thank you,” Loki managed to get out, and the air in the room felt just a little more accessible to Thor. His brother’s lack of a violent or rude response took some of the tension away, leaving him feeling almost weak with a powerful sense of relief. Despite everything, despite the unexpected way that Loki had relaxed in the comfort of having his parents here, something about Loki still felt off. Something felt missing, a sense of wrongness that made Thor’s bones itch. It was after another few minutes of Loki looking around the room, at his parents, at the walls and the floors that Thor figured it out. Loki hadn’t looked at him since his parents entered the room. Just as the thought occurred to Thor, Loki glanced up at him as if he had heard, only to find Thor looking right back at him. Thor had been looking at him the whole time, having eyes only for Loki, who had become the focus of his world a long time ago. Ever since he’d lost him. Ever since he’d come back and into Thor’s arms.

Thor, holding Loki’s eye now that he had it, tilted his head slightly. “Who hurt you, brother?” He repeated his father’s question, trying to mimic the calm tone with which it had been said. Loki looked around the room nervously at each family member in turn, feeling their eyes on him more as a protective weight than a hindrance. If they were all watching him, he couldn’t fall. The attention fed a small and ugly part of his brain that had been craving nothing but this since he was a child. To be the sole focus of the room, to be in the same room as Thor and still capture everyone’s attention. The larger part of his brain that felt his family’s weight as protection against his fears promptly told that part to shut the hell up. 

“It was my fault,” Loki began again, quieter but stronger this time. His voice cracked in fewer places but his eyes kept skittering around anxiously to gauge reactions and safety. It was obvious that Loki was battling with himself, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to speak but also wanted nothing more than to be silent. Thor knew that Loki had been trying hard not to think about it. At all. To do so brought him fear and nightmares and memories and the urge to open his mouth and scream and never stop, like when he first returned. Loki’s eyes eventually settled on Thor and he swallowed, the column of his throat working like it was trying to flush out acid.

“It was… it was my fault. I tried to open a portal and I failed.” The words were half a pitch away from silent, carefully paced and measured out as Loki struggled to keep himself calm. Not even their mother’s hand solidly on his own, their father’s firm vow and presence, or Thor’s intent gaze appeared to calm Loki. Thor’s gaze sharpened as Loki focused on him, staring at his brother’s pale throat as it worked and he tried to speak as if Thor could pull the words from it directly. “I only meant to leave the room,” Thor didn’t even know it was possible for Loki to get quieter until he did, “but I failed. I suppose it was my lack of a certain-- certain destination that--” His words cut off suddenly and he turned his head sharply to the side, shoulders hunching over and trembling like he was going to vomit. Frigga lifted a hand to his shoulder blades, trying to soothe him despite the furrow in her brow and the anxiety spelled out all over her face. 

“Loki--” she began, only to again be quieted by her husband.

“Let him finish,” Odin insisted, absorbing the glare that Frigga gave him with a slight dip of his head. Frigga was not one to be silenced like a mere princess. No, she was a queen and Odin knew it. Only when it was a highly important matter did she let him get away with it, like now. Thor shifted his weight, watching his brother clearly struggle with his words. It was such a foreign sight to him, to see Loki lost for words. It didn’t last for long as Loki seemed to recover not his composure, but his words. At this point, Loki was all but gasping for breath as the panic seemed to creep back up on him. Not his brother’s gaze or his mother’s touch could take the anxiety from him and he was panting with the effort it was taking.

“I was-- was stuck. Stuck in, in a, in a place I’ve-- a place I don’t-- the Void.” The words were spilling out of him at a much faster pace, like he was worried that if he didn’t get them all out now, they would forever be stuck. His words were sticking together, syllables blending and words bleeding together as the panic worked to steal away his voice. “The Void-- I fell, I fell into the-- the Void and nobody, nobody caught me.” That was definitely a sob that erupted at the end of his words, one that both his mother and brother moved to comfort, but this time it was Loki who would not be interrupted.

“I fell and-- and I was stuck. I couldn’t, couldn’t move and I saw-- saw  _ everything _ ,” he gasped out, the words falling out of his mouth at an unsettling pace. “I was stuck when he-- he found me, and-- he-- he-- he  _ took _ me and--” Loki broke off to cover his face, hands trembling as he dragged them down his face. The little control that he had over his breathing was long gone, his panting interspersed with sobs as his body trembled. He shook with anxiety, with fear, with something that looked to Thor like  _ shame _ and a million other things he couldn’t name that clearly threatened to overtake his brother. 

“Who did, Loki? Who did these things?” Odin pressed, raising his voice to be more easily heard over the mess of his son’s breathing. Had Odin not had a millennia of practice schooling his expression, it would have doubtlessly shown the same worry and fear the rest of his family expressed instead of the impassive straight lines of a king’s troubles. 

“ _ Thanos _ ,” Loki gasped out, the word sending both of his hands flying to his throat as he scrambled backwards, eyes distant as they blinked rapidly and wildly looked around the room. “He-- he  _ unmade _ me, father, and nobody--  _ nobody _ caught me--” Loki didn’t even see his father stand,was not prepared for the strong arms that wrapped around him and pulled him close. Thor could not remember the last time he saw his father hug Loki, much less hold him so gently and smooth his hair like their mother had done countless times. Seeing Odin  _ comfort _ was so beyond the realm of Thor’s expectations that it almost unsettled him, watching his brother sobbing into his father’s arms like he hadn’t done since they were children.

“There now, Loki. I’ve got you. Your family has caught you and we will keep you safe now,” Odin murmured as his son melted into his arms, the too-thin limbs trembling visibly as Loki sobbed into his chest. Frigga stroked Loki’s back as Thor crossed his arms tightly across his chest and tried not to feel jealous.

Thor knew that this was good for Loki, being exposed to and accepting of other people. It was a good thing, a positive thing for Loki to be comforted by someone else. That was what he had wanted, right? For Loki to recover? And yet. Something about seeing his brother vulnerable and being consoled by people that weren’t Thor set something ugly off in his stomach. There was still the familiar knife's edge of his brother’s grief, the overpowering need to hold and fix him. Loki’s attention had been focused solely on Thor for months; Thor had been the only one to provide him with comfort and anything else he needed. Besides, Thor had been the one who wanted Loki to see their parents, after all. He was being ridiculous, and he knew that. To be anything other than happy at seeing Loki recover was disgusting and horrific.

But the low anger that simmered in his stomach didn’t feel ridiculous. It felt very, very real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Enjoy this chapter! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The speed at which Loki’s breaths were coming bordered on hyperventilation as he was faced with the reality that Thor was so incredibly close to him. What threatened to freeze his heart in his chest was that he didn’t know if wanted Thor to back away or come closer. He was terrified by how much he wanted this, wanted Thor to kiss him.

Loki was entirely out of excuses.

It wasn’t like he had any belongings to gather and he was unarguably strong enough. His eyes had adjusted and he was eating regularly again. Even seeing his parents was becoming somewhat of a normal occurrence. He cast one more uneasy glance around the room that had been his for the last few months. Thor was leaning against the wall by the door, holding Mjölnir casually as he watched Loki with a faint smile.

“Come, Loki,” Thor said softly. “It is time, let us go together.”

Loki had nothing to say to that, no rational argument as to why he didn’t want to leave this room. His family had collectively agreed that it was time for Loki to try and rejoin society and there were no complaints that Loki could make against the idea without sounding mad. Still, he hesitated. Although there weren’t exactly a lot of good memories made in this room, it was where he and Thor had spent every day. Who knew what returning to the surface would do to their time spent together? Would Thor just leave him alone again once he was deemed fully recovered? He looked at Thor with a helpless expression, hopelessness and an odd bubbly feeling rising in his stomach, not moving from his place in the center of the room. Loki wasn’t sure he could stand that. Not when his brother belonged to him so completely right now.

Thor sighed and pushed himself off the wall, setting Mjölnir on the floor as he strode towards his brother. Both he and Loki were dressed in clothes that were suited for two princes of the Realm Eternal, which would surely be a relief to their mother. Loki hadn’t been in anything except plain healing ward clothes since his return, and he kept tugging at the uncomfortably starched fabric. Thor batted his hand away from his collar, straightening it and smoothing out the creases in his tunic, smiling at Loki’s complaints of how itchy the garments were. Thor’s smile turned fond as he placed a hand on the crook of Loki’s neck and kissing his forehead, rubbing his thumb on the back of his brother’s neck before pulling him into a full embrace. Loki relaxed into the feeling of Thor holding him, trying to focus on the comfort it provided and not the lurch his stomach gave at the contact. His brother held him firmly, the arm around his back tight like Thor never intended to let go. Focusing on that thought, the idea that Thor might hold on to him forever, made it easier for Loki to take in a deep breath. For some reason it was easier to breathe with Thor’s arms around him and Loki could feel the anxiety slowly starting to drip out of his body.

“You can do this, brother. Just a few more steps, come on,” Thor encouraged him with a smile that spoke of easy promises and sunshine. Loki returned the smile uneasily, certain that it didn’t resemble even half of Thor’s radiant smile. With his chest feeling lighter, it was easier for Loki to shake himself as if he were shaking off his fear before nodding. 

“Okay,” he murmured, running his hands down his tunic in an attempt to settle himself. The leathers scraped roughly against his palms and he tried not to grimace when his fingers caught on the metal buckles. These clothes would take a  _ lot _ of getting used to. “Alright, let’s go.” 

Thor’s smile widened and he clapped Loki on the back. “Excellent. This way, brother.” He naturally assumed the lead, making sure that Loki was by his side as he guided them out of the basement. Every step they took led them further out of the darkness, further into Thor’s territory and further away from Loki’s.

As they ascended the stairs Loki tried to keep himself steady. The light no longer hurt his healed eyes but it was still strange to see. He had been in the dark for so long. The first time they ran into a servant, Loki startled at the casual reminder that other people lived here in this castle. A vast number of people, actually. That the castle was more than just four stone walls and a door. The servant bowed at them as they passed and that was another jolt of surprise to Loki. He was a  _ prince _ . He was technically above all of these people, even if he didn’t feel like it right now. At some point on their journey back up, Loki had grabbed Thor’s arm for balance. Although his body was almost entirely healed, he felt that he needed the reminder of his brother, of his presence, of his love. Loki wasn’t  _ scared _ per say, but he was deeply unsettled by everything he saw.

They made their way through the castle slowly, the familiar gold of the walls seeming to wink at them as they passed. Whispers followed them and Loki was keenly aware of every glance, that every stare was directed at him, the lost prince found once more. He could feel the sweat starting to trickle down his neck from the heat of Asgard’s gaze and he felt himself losing his composure, his ability to walk through the halls with his head up. Thor’s grip on his arm was the only thing keeping him standing and he could feel his knees begin to buckle when a woman stopped in front of them, forcing the princes to halt their movements.

She wasn’t someone that Loki recognized and her clothes were too plain to be nobility. She smiled at them and curtseyed, her eyes kind as she looked at Loki. “Welcome back, my prince,” she spoke warmly, looking as though she genuinely meant it.

Loki was too shocked to properly respond, his hold on Thor’s arm faltering as he inclined his head to her in response. “Thank you,” he whispered soundlessly, unable to return the smile she so kindly gave him. Thor squeezed his arm as they continued moving. 

“See?” Thor murmured, his voice only for Loki’s ears. “Asgard celebrates your return, brother.” Loki couldn’t find the words to disagree, now keenly aware that the stares that followed them were not  _ all _ hostile. The whispers seemed to be accompanied by smiles, the bows and curtseys directed at them more than what Loki could remember. Their reception felt like more than just proper respect. It felt real, like the Asgardians actually cared, for some reason Loki couldn’t fathom. 

They were in the throne room before Loki could even wrap his head around being back, and if the kindness of Asgard before had shocked him, the enthusiastic applause that sounded when they entered their father’s hall was astounding. Looking around, Loki found that he recognized many of the faces in the room. It was full of people that he had made friends with or had known from his many hours spent in Asgard’s court. 

Thor beamed out at the crowd, drinking in the attention that wasn’t entirely meant for him. It was such a familiar sight to Loki, except for the fact that Thor kept him firmly by his side, ensuring that he did not feel left out in the slightest. That part was such an unexpected change of pace that Loki found himself smiling, happiness slipping in between the cracks of his disbelief as Asgard welcomed him home. 

Odin was sitting on the throne, as expected, with Frigga standing beside him. Even Heimdall was there, standing a small distance from the throne with a stony expression offset by the warmth in his eyes. The proud expression on his mother’s face was also expected, but what Loki hadn’t expected to see was her expression mirrored on his father’s face. That, coupled with Asgard’s more than warm reception, was all that Loki had ever wanted. It was every dream he’d ever had come true. Even his brother grinning by his side felt right and Loki found himself walking forward towards the throne with more of his own strength than Thor’s. He did not relinquish his brother’s arm, the comfort it brought more wanted than needed. Sooner than Loki would have liked, they stood at the foot of the throne Thor would one day occupy. Without hesitation, Loki kneeled in front of it, Thor following suit almost immediately after. 

“My king,” they both said, almost in perfect unison. The grins that they gave each other, however,  _ were _ in perfect time with the other. The pure, undiluted happiness that Loki could read on Thor’s face echoed in his own chest. The joy that Loki knew Thor was feeling was visible on every line of his face. Loki could see it in the curve of his smile and the flash of his teeth, could read the genuineness in the way his eyebrows tilted out and his cheeks stretched to accommodate his elation. Loki never wanted to look away from his brother. He wanted Thor to smile that smile every day, he wanted him to feel so happy every minute. Most of all, he wanted to be the cause of such delight. Something in him felt satiated by the thought, as if Loki had satisfied a deep longing.

“Rise, my sons,” Odin’s voice interrupted Loki’s thoughts, and his eyes snapped up to his father. “Loki Odinson, Asgard welcomes you back to your proper place. I speak for all her citizens when I say welcome home, my child. You have been dearly missed.” The cheers that rose from the crowd echoed his father’s words and Loki was all but floating from the bliss of being wanted. He could still feel the eyes of Asgard, of his people, but it felt less claustrophobic now. All his life, Loki had felt suffocated by that weight, the gaze he was sure was damning him for what he couldn’t be. He had never expected it to feel  _ safe _ . For perhaps the first time in as long as he could remember, he looked around at Asgard and felt at home.

There was no formal celebration planned, and it was not designated a feast day, but if there was some alcohol shared among friends and toasts made in the prince’s honor, there was nothing amiss with that. Loki drifted through the crowd, his brother never straying far from his side, looking dazed but content. People he’d never met before were coming up to shake his hand, to wish him luck or to ask for his blessing. It was so bizarre to Loki to be  _ liked _ that he was never sure of the proper response. Centuries of diplomatic training was all that saved him, the proper words and gestures coming back like muscle memory. 

The informal celebration lasted throughout the entire day and had so many attendees that an impromptu feast began in the dining hall. It was Asgard’s way to celebrate any happy occasion, to take any excuse away from wartime to drink and be merry. Although Asgardians had very long lifespans, families were used to having lives cut short by battle, or in very rare cases poverty and famine. Taking advantage of the moment was a typical attitude for the impulsive and headstrong.

Thor had his arm slung around Loki’s shoulders for most of the night, and if Loki were being honest, it was the main reason he stayed for as long as he did. The sudden amount of light and noise and sheer volume of people was very distressing to Loki, although he did his best to obscure it. Every new sound threatened to overwhelm him but Thor’s arm and the slow yet steady stream of alcohol he’d been given keeping him still. With every sip of his drink, the world got a little fuzzier and a little easier for Loki to handle. The lights dimmed and blurred together with every toast in his honor, the world feeling a little warmer every time Thor turned to speak into his ear. Loki had never felt so at ease at a celebration before, never felt so much like he truly belonged where he was. The unshakable sense of belonging permeated every ounce of his being, the undeniable sense of being in the right place.

Loki was unsure if he meant being in Thor’s arms or Asgard.

He wasn’t going to think about that one too much.

The world was too fuzzy and pleasant for Loki to care; when he turned to look at his parents, they were smiling and laughing as well. Everyone around them was the same: happy at Loki’s return and  _ ecstatic _ at the opportunity to drink the day away.

Still, sooner rather than later Loki felt himself begin to tire. His body was no longer used to so much food or drink at once, and especially was not used to so much standing. He felt himself beginning to sway, with the ground looking a lot closer than it should at times, and knew that he hadn’t had enough drinks to cause this. Loki rolled his head to the side slightly, Thor’s massive arm still around his neck and resting over his shoulders, and poked him in the side to get his attention. 

“Thor, I think it’s time for me to go,” he mumbled, by some miracle not slurring his words. 

Thor laughed at something one of his friends said, either not hearing Loki or not processing his words. Loki frowned at this, the idea of being ignored sitting sourly in his stomach. Although he was loathe to admit it, not being the sole object of Thor’s attention was a little disquieting but Loki was able to shove it down. Of course Thor had to talk to other people. Thor is a prince and they’re at a damn feast for Norns’ sake. 

Loki reached out and tapped Thor’s cheek, trying not to whine at him as he tried to get his attention. “Thor,” he tried to say his brother’s name clearer this time, enunciating his syllables like he only ever does when he’s drunk. Thor turned his head at the touch to his face but didn’t break eye contact with the person he was talking to. He hummed distractedly at Loki, not really bothering to pay attention. 

This upset Loki more than he could have expected. Maybe it was all the drinks, maybe the enormity of today was finally crashing down on him or any number of other things, but he felt his heart plummet into his stomach. The sour taste was clawing up his throat from his stomach and his face turned down into a scowl with the force of it. Fine. He would find his own way back to his old room. Loki tugged on Thor’s arm, struggling to lift it over his head and off his shoulders.

Thor certainly noticed that.

“What’re you doing, Loki?” Thor definitely had more drinks than Loki, as evidenced by his inability to keep from mashing his words into one long drawl. Now he turned to look at his brother, and if his words hadn’t given away how drunk he was, the heavy set of his eyelids would have. The light eyes half-lidded, cheeks ruddy from all of the merriment, his hair slightly mussed from hours of celebration. Loki looked at Thor and had only one thought in his brain: Thor was beautiful. Loki wanted to kiss him. The sudden realization took his breath away and he could do naught but stare for the moment that felt like a lifetime. There were too many different emotions fighting for dominance over his reaction to his own thoughts, and Loki felt that he was far too drunk for this. Getting back his composure to speak took a long minute, Loki’s mouth uselessly forming words that didn’t exist. Unfortunately it only had the effect of drawing Thor’s attention to his lips, where Loki could swear that it lingered for longer than it should. The thought of that took what little breath he had away, and he was back to square one.

“You look uneasy, brother. Perhaps it is time to retire?” Thor thankfully suggested, being observant and actually using his brain. He mirrored Loki’s frown, a small crease forming between his eyebrows that Loki couldn’t help but notice. Norns it was starting to get hot in here, and Loki could almost feel the oxygen in the room starting to dwindle. 

He nodded to Thor’s question, grateful when Thor didn’t say anything else before setting his mug down and bidding the hall goodnight, much to the protest of everyone who had been celebrating with the princes. Thor laughed it off, slinging his arm properly around Loki’s shoulders again and steering them out of the room with ease. It took only a few minutes before the emerged out into the cool air of Asgard’s halls. Loki was immensely thankful for the open-air concepts the palace engineers had went with, the fresh breeze soothing his skin. He closed his eyes and just let Thor steer them, not fully sure what direction they were even going.

Loki’s eyes snapped back open when he felt himself suddenly pitching forward and he threw an arm out in an attempt to steady them. Thor had tripped on an uneven stone but managed to stop them from falling, but not before Loki’s arm smacked into the stone of the palace wall. He winced when his hand made contact with unflinching wall, the unsubtle crack making Thor’s head snap up. 

“Norns, Loki, are you alright?” Thor’s voice was undoubtedly sharper than it had been in the hall, whether it was the cool air or Loki’s injury that mildly sobered him was unknown. He reached for Loki’s hand, inspecting it thoroughly and probing it with less-than-gentle fingers, eyebrows furrowing at Loki’s every wince. “Here, come sit,” Thor muttered, pressing his hand on the small of Loki’s back and pushing him towards the wall. The windows of the palace were so large that one could easily sit on the base of it, more of a half-wall than a proper window sill. Loki sat down heavily, his breath coming a little unsteadily from the exertion and the minor injury. Thor hauled himself up onto the window beside Loki, picking his hand back up and inspecting it closer.

Loki shook his head slowly, flexing his fingers and finding only mild spots of irritation that would likely form into ugly bruises tomorrow. “I’m fine, you oaf,” he muttered, a little annoyed at his brother for not watching his steps more carefully when Loki had put his trust in him.

“I am very sorry, Loki,” Thor’s eyes were very sincere, almost disgustingly so, as he stared at Loki anxiously. “I did not mean to bring you harm, it was my fault I should have been paying more attention. I am sorry.” Were Thor’s eyes shining? Loki’s vision was just blurry enough that he couldn’t be sure, the cold night air not sobering him enough to be able to tell. How was Loki supposed to be upset at Thor when he couldn’t doubt his sincerity for even a moment?

“I really am fine, Thor,” Loki said softer this time, flexing his fingers in Thor’s grip to prove his mobility. “See? Just fine.” Thor shook his head, not accepting the answer, muttering things under his breath that Loki could guess at and didn’t want to hear. He frowned; hearing Thor be negative towards himself was horrible. Especially when Loki thought the world of him, which was always. He lifted his other hand to Thor’s face, covering his mouth with his index finger and a half-hearted “shhh” to get him to stop talking. 

It worked, in some respects. On one hand, Thor stopped talking. On the other hand, he took Loki’s hand from his mouth and kissed his palm, then the knuckles of his fingers in an almost reverential manner. Loki’s cheeks flamed and something ugly twisted in his stomach that he was loathe to call desire. His breath stuttered and his eyes were fixed on Thor’s mouth as he kissed his hand. 

“That’s-- that’s some apology,” he managed to choke out, immediately cursing himself for the breathy note in his voice. Thor looked up at him with interest at that, his face still scrunched up in that annoyingly mournful expression, like hurting Loki by accident was the worst thing he’d ever done. 

“I  _ am _ sorry,” Thor mumbled, releasing Loki’s hand and pulling Loki in for a hug instead. And oh, this. Loki thought he would die. The proximity of Thor, especially after the thoughts Loki had just had, was lethal. Despite that, he couldn’t help but breathe in, the smell of his brother mixed with mead and the night air comforting enough to calm the storm whipping around his stomach. 

“I believe you,” Loki breathed out, letting his head fall onto Thor’s shoulder. Loki could physically feel the exhaustion eating at his nerves, the weakness of his body threatening to give out if he didn’t lay down and soon.

Thor pulled back from the embrace, placing a kiss on Loki’s forehead as was their wont lately. By the Norns, how much Loki wished Thor hadn’t done that. The feeling of Thor’s lips on his face, on his burning skin, made Loki swallow down what felt suspiciously like a gasp. What was  _ worse _ was that Thor didn’t move away either. His lips lingered on Loki’s forehead, brushing against his hairline as Thor stayed still, just breathing for a moment as he held his brother in his arms. 

Loki’s heartbeat was fast, ridiculously fast, as his brain ran wild with all of the possibilities this moment held. He peeked up at Thor from under his eyelashes, struck again by his beauty and was startled to find Thor’s eyes on his own, intense and studying. It was not an expression that he expected to see on his brother, especially after consuming as many drinks as Thor had. It set him off guard and he licked his lips nervously, noticing how Thor’s eyes tracked the movement, something in his expression changing at the sight. Loki’s heart stopped as Thor leaned down a little further, his lips ghosting down the side of his face to his cheek where he stopped, pressing a kiss there. The speed at which Loki’s breaths were coming bordered on hyperventilation as he was faced with the reality that Thor was  _ so incredibly close _ to him. What What threatened to freeze his heart in his chest was that he didn’t know if wanted Thor to back away or come closer. He was terrified by how much he wanted this, wanted Thor to kiss him.

For a never ending moment, it felt like Thor wasn’t going to. His mouth lingered on Loki’s cheek for a long time. So long that Loki could feel his heart squeezing in his chest and he couldn’t help but let out a small gasp of breath from the pressure in his lungs. Slowly, so slowly that Loki could feel every shift of Thor’s body as his lips drifted to the side to line up with Loki’s mouth, where he placed a soft kiss.

If Loki had thought he wasn’t breathing before...

He went absolutely still, the hammering in his chest so loud that it filled his ears, drowning out every other sound. His hands fluttered uselessly in his lap, wanting to reach up and touch, do something, anything, but he was too lost. Too far gone in the feeling of Thor  _ kissing him _ . The love that he could feel thrumming through his brother, spilling into Loki through their lips, overwhelmed him until he couldn’t move. The world narrowed down until all Loki had was this one moment, all he’s ever had is this moment. Thor loves him, well and truly. It doesn’t matter how, Loki will reach out greedily and ask for more.

He is about to do just that when Thor all but rips his face away and the world slams back into Loki. The sudden loss he feels when Thor backs off leaves him desolate, his face crumpling. His mood goes even further south when he catches sight of Thor’s expression. Put plainly, Thor’s face was absolutely horrified. He looked disgusted and angry and Loki is so confused, so hurt by the loss of the love he had just been basking in. 

Thor practically jumped off the window sill, stumbling several steps backwards as he raised his hands in front of himself, stuttering something that Loki can’t make out. Loki didn’t have time to ask or say even a single word before Thor turned around and almost broke into a run in his desperation to leave. Loki raised a hand and reached after Thor, the sorrow in his chest nearly crushing him in a massive wave of upset as Thor quickly disappears out of his reach and Loki’s hand fell uselessly to his side.

He could feel his face twist into something ugly, something truly pathetic as he scrubbed at his eyes, refusing to cry about such a ridiculous thing. Thor didn’t mean to kiss him, it was obvious now. Thor was so drunk, and Loki is his  _ little brother _ . There’s no way he meant to kiss him and he was probably disgusted with Loki for not pushing him off. For not saying that it was wrong, for not protesting and keeping Thor from doing something unforgivable.

Despite his best efforts, ugly tears tracked their way down Loki’s face and his legs trembled as he tried to stand up. Looking around the corridor found Loki in familiar surroundings at least; it appears that they were almost to Loki’s chambers when Thor stumbled. Good. It wouldn’t be that long of a walk, then. 

It wasn’t that long at all, truly.

Just a few more steps and he would be there.

Why did he feel like those few steps would kill him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thanks for reading :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the first morning in a very long time that he didn’t bring Loki breakfast, didn’t settle down in a chair and chat with his brother. Thor could almost justify it, too: Loki was doing better and was back in his regular room. He would be alright without Thor there to make a mess of things.

Thor, for his part, had never felt so guilty in his life.

Getting back to his room was the easy part. Dealing with himself once he got there was far more difficult. He all but collapsed against the door, sliding down with a heavy thud as he covered his face. 

He just kissed his brother. On the mouth. Like lovers do.

And the worst part was that he wanted to do it again.

Loki had just looked so gorgeous sitting on the window, his hair pushed back behind his ears and the flush on his face so delicate, so warm that Thor wanted to-- 

Norns he was going straight to Hel for this. Loki’s face when Thor had pulled away haunted him. He had looked so upset, his mouth turned down and his eyebrows lowered in what Thor could only guess was anger. Anger at Thor for doing such a stupid thing with his  _ brother _ . He could hardly believe that he managed to ruin his relationship with his brother in one stupid, drunk decision.

He hardly felt drunk any longer; the humiliation simmering in his veins surely must have burned all the alcohol out of his body. Thor dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until sparks bloomed in the dark behind his eyelids and his brain started to ache from the pressure. His brain desperately spewed justifications, reasons why something that had felt so good and right couldn’t be so horribly wrong. It couldn’t be all bad, right? It’s not like he and Loki are  _ really _ brothers anyways. 

The thought stops Thor short and a rush of self-hatred flowed through his body as he smacked himself on the forehead. Of  _ course _ Loki was his brother. What the Hel was he thinking? There was no way out of this, no escape from the emotion suffocating him from the inside out.

Sleep. He needed rest. Thor’s thoughts had been swimming around his head before; now they were frantically clamoring around his head in a disturbingly frenetic manner. With a grunt of exertion he managed to haul himself off the floor and stumble the few steps to his bed, collapsing on top of it. Thor did not have the energy to take his clothes off, not even his shoes, as his eyes closed on their own. For someone with such a troubled mind, sleep came surprisingly easily. For as large a hindrance the mead had proved to be tonight, at least it provided some small benefit.

If Thor were expecting the next morning to bring a change of perspective, he was vastly disappointed. He was still just as consumed by guilt, swallowed up by the shame and humiliation of what he had done. He felt cowardly for running. But most of all, he found fear to be his strongest feeling. The fear that Loki would be so disgusted with him that he wouldn’t even look at him. The fear that he had broken the relationship he had just gotten back, the fear that Loki would never love him the same, would never look at him with those trusting, unguarded eyes. 

It broke his heart just to think about.

Thor did what cowards always do and hid; spending the morning wallowing in bed with an absolutely pounding headache. It was the first morning in a very long time that he didn’t bring Loki breakfast, didn’t settle down in a chair and chat with his brother. Thor could almost justify it, too: Loki was doing better and was back in his regular room. He would be alright without Thor there to make a mess of things. Truly, Loki would be fine. He had their mother and father and all of Asgard there for him. 

This line of reasoning carried Thor all throughout the day, watching as the light from the windows turned bright yellow to golden, then orange to purple. The longer he watched the light change the further he could feel himself slipping down. Down, down, down and away. He couldn’t stop worrying, couldn’t stop being sad and angry with himself. He had no right to do what he did, to ruin what he did. There were no excuses. All he could do was try and distance himself from Loki enough to let his little brother try and forget what Thor had done. To give them time to learn how to ignore his transgression. It made sense but felt weak and pathetic, like it could not even come close to making up for Thor’s actions. It felt like nothing could do that.

It occurred to Thor late in the evening, long after the purple light of dusk had faded away, that he might be being just the teeniest bit over dramatic. They were both drunk after all, why didn’t he just try and play it off? It was a valid response, but Thor felt a pain deep in his chest at the thought of doing that: of pretending that the kiss meant nothing, that it wasn’t something he’d thought about doing for years. The surge of resentment he felt against himself didn’t surprise Thor. The thought that he didn’t deserve the pain, didn’t deserve whatever repercussions came from his actions was disgusting. He just had to face it.

Thor could deal with Loki being  _ dead  _ for two full years. Surely he can deal with Loki being upset at him. At least he’s alive this time. All Thor could do was apologize and go from there. Loki might even laugh it off, might not even remember it. This could go so much better than Thor was bracing for. The thought lifted some of the weight off his shoulders, the trembly sickness that had taken root in his stomach and chest loosening. It didn’t stop the fear from clenching around his heart, but at least he could breathe now. He had always been better at following decisions through once they had been made.

That settled it, then. He would go to sleep and wake in the morning, treating everything like it was a regular day. The pieces would fall where they would and Thor could take action from there. Going to sleep was so much easier with a plan in place. It was always easier to focus on action than on wallowing. Thor drifted to sleep thinking of all the ways he could apologize. 

It must have been later than he realized when he fell asleep because when the dawn woke Thor, he felt unbearably groggy. He couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, and the realization set his mouth into an uneven line as he was forced to face the reality ahead of him. He could feel how messy his hair was, how tangled and knotted it must truly be after his distinct lack of care for it. That had to be taken care of before anything else.

Rising from bed was the hardest part. Once he was up he was able to drag himself over to the washroom that adjoined his room. Methodically rinsing his hair, Thor found a sense of peace in the familiar action. The sort of peace that came from layers upon layers of dread coalescing into acceptance. Some of the knots in his hair were almost impossible to get out. There was no way Thor would be able to comb them out without ripping half the hair out of his head. Braiding back the few strands he couldn’t get neat, he focused on the task of getting dressed, which was over far too soon. He had no excuses to not join his family at breakfast, especially after missing Loki’s return to the family table yesterday. A small arrow of guilt pierced his stomach, propelling Thor out of the room and down the stairs where he knew his family would be waiting.

The only small problem with Thor’s plan was that Loki was nowhere to be seen at breakfast. Thor had marched straight into the royal family’s private dining chamber, like a man marching to the gallows, only to stop short in the doorway at the sight of his parents eating alone. 

“Where’s Loki?” The words flew out of his mouth with no thought, his face turned down in confusion. Frigga raised one eyebrow at Thor, even Odin looking mildly surprised at Thor’s sudden request. 

“You mean to say that he is not with you?” Frigga asked gently, exchanging a look with her husband. His mother was as elegantly composed as ever, her hair resting softly over her shoulder today. It was rare for Frigga to be seen with her hair completely down, but her family often was gifted with sight at their breakfast table.

“No, I-- I have not seen him since the feast,” Thor’s heart plummeted at the knowledge that Loki wasn’t with him, or with their parents. His parents didn’t even know where Loki was. Frigga started to rise from her chair, her face changing into an expression more suited to worry than confusion. Her intentions were clear. The thought that Frigga might get involved in this, in what Thor had done to Loki, sent a jolt of panic straight through his brain and he jerkily raised his hands in a nullifying gesture. 

“You know what? I recall Loki mentioning how tired he was after the feast. It was probably exhausting to him, being around so many people so quickly. He is likely just resting. Please allow me to go check on him. He is most familiar with my presence, after all. Excuse me.” The lies flowed so easily out of Thor’s mouth that he might have been concerned if he weren’t so grateful for the skill. Before thinking about it too much, or checking to see if his parents had bought his story, he turned and tried very hard not to run out of the room.

The walk to Loki’s room was short and the worry that was again taking up residence in Thor’s heart urged him to hurry up. It was such a habit not to knock on Loki’s bedroom door that he did just that, pushing and expecting the door to open as soon as he reached it. The fact that his fist pressed against wood that didn’t immediately give was startling to say the least. Thor stared at his hand in a dual mixture of horror and amazement before knocking properly this time.

“Loki,” he called through the door, pressing his palm flat against the wood. “Please let me in, brother.”

It couldn’t have been more than two seconds before Thor knocked again, more insistent this time, anxiety starting to rise uncomfortably in his chest. It was the first time Thor had been denied Loki’s presence in… years. Thor knew his brother was there, knew that Loki wouldn’t bother barricading an empty room. He just wasn’t responding, no matter how hard Thor knocked on the door. And he knocked  _ hard _ , enough that he could see the door frame tremble with every thud of his fist. Loki  _ knew _ Thor was out here. So why wasn’t he opening the door?

Possible reasons for Loki’s silence began to pile up in Thor’s brain, each more horrible than the last and sending electric waves of panic right into his heart. Two years without Loki, two years of his brother being dead and gone and away from Thor, pushed him to bang on the door with something that was very clearly desperation. He could feel his breath coming in short and painful bursts, the feeling of drowning on land threatening to swallow him up. Horrific images flashed in front of Thor’s eyes, each making him push against the door with more force than the last.

“Loki, open the door.”

His brother lying dead.

“Loki!”

Cold and lifeless. Chest not rising, all color drained from his face.

“Brother,  _ please!  _ "

Not moving, not breathing, not laughing, not smiling, not thinking.

Because of Thor.

“Loki!!!”

It came as a surprise when the door actually cracked under Thor’s fist, and even more of a surprise when he managed to snap the thick wood in three large pieces that fell forward to reveal a blurry picture of Loki’s room. Blurry, Thor supposed, because of the tears crowding his eyes. His vision didn’t get a chance to clear up, an angered scream from the interior of the room was very quickly followed by a loud flash and bang that pushed Thor backwards with such force that he fell to the floor. The impact rendered Thor unable to do anything but blink for a very long second. As soon as that second was up, he was back to his feet and rushing towards the door but it was too late. The splinters of the door that had littered the floor only moments ago were forming back together, piece-by-piece reassembling themselves as they reattached to the wall: creating another barrier between him and Loki. Thor didn’t bother trying to stop it, didn’t bother doing anything but stare miserably at the pieces that were tinged with a green glow. Loki was intent on keeping him out; that much was obvious.

At least Loki was alive.

The knowledge did little to soothe the frenzy beating beneath Thor’s breastbone. The panic he had felt being replaced by a crushing feeling of failure. Desolation flitted around the edges of Thor’s heart, tugging at the shredded chunks of muscle that occupied the space his heart used to beat within. He approached the door calmly this time, placing a hand on it as the final traces of green faded away, the door fully reassembled and looking as if it had never broken. The strongest urge to just… sit down overcame Thor and he couldn’t find anything within him to resist it. Sinking to the floor with his back to the door, he thudded his head against the wood, staring abjectly at the ceiling he had never had cause to study before.

“You have your magic back,” he noted, quietly enough that he couldn’t be sure if Loki heard him. If Loki was even listening. If he wasn’t too completely disgusted with Thor to even acknowledge his existence. “Just… please let me know that you are alright, brother. That you are okay.” 

Thor wished that the lack of response was anything other than unexpected. He wished, desperately, that Loki would open the door and smile at him. That he would smile and forgive Thor. Wrap his arms around him and chide Thor for being ridiculous, would tease him for being oversensitive. Thor wished for anything other than the silence, than the disdain that he knew Loki would be feeling. Anything other than the disgust that curdled Thor’s stomach and made him want to never rise from his spot on the floor. 

Instead, he closed his eyes and imagined that Loki was sitting on the other side of the door, their backs separated by a piece of wood and their inability to communicate with each other. It was better than nothing.

***

Thor took to wandering the halls like a ghost. All that was missing was a candle holder and dark window panes shuddering with violent storm winds. Nobody stopped him as he drifted through the halls, looking for all the world like he wanted to fade into the stone walls. Servants glanced down as he passed, it was the noblemen and women who lacked the courtesy not to stare at him with curiosity. Their stares pricked the back of his neck and Thor could feel himself start to sweat with the heat of their gazes. Everyone, all the time, looked at him. It was the price of being Asgard’s crown prince. That didn’t mean Thor  _ liked _ it. The attention, especially in his current humor, gave Thor the most uncomfortable feeling of being trapped in a cage. He couldn’t escape and it wasn’t like anyone was trying to help him, either.

There was  _ nowhere _ he could go to be alone and safe from his thoughts. Even when he retreated to his rooms, he was haunted in his solitude. Sensory memory plagued his skin, the feeling of another hand on his dancing over empty skin. When Thor closed his eyes there was nothing but everything he didn’t want to be reminded of. A smile, a sly tilt of a delicate chin, the quirk of an eyebrow or pale skin. Thor couldn’t eat without feeling the overpowering urge to look beside him, to make sure that the person beside him was eating. It became incredibly depressing after a few times, especially when there was not a shadow of a doubt that Thor was alone. He was drowning, very slowly but very certainly, in his own skin.

Eventually he found himself outside, walking past trees he had seen thousands of times but never absorbed. Every square inch of grass felt like it had memories imbued within, the past Thor could never go back to following him around like a shackle on his ankle. There were moments, their frequency growing larger and larger, where there was nothing he wanted more than to rip the fabric of time and space open and shove himself through it, coming out anywhere but where he currently was. 

His mother’s gardens were the worst of all. Thor wasn’t sure why he was here, or how he had ended up here, but it didn’t really matter as he sat heavily on one of the many stone benches the garden had to offer. Frigga’s gardens were as immaculate as ever, Thor the only thing out of place. The only thing that wasn’t vibrant and full of life. Even the sky was brighter than Thor today. He would feel bitter about it, if he thought he could muster up the will. He could just feel himself start to zone out, to stare at something inconsequential for long enough that he could sleep while awake, when someone settled down next to him. Thor didn’t need to look to know that it was his mother. Who else would be bold enough to approach him yet gently enough to do nothing but sit quietly beside him? 

Sure enough, out of the corner of Thor’s eye he could see the settling of a skirt, muted blue in its color. His mother’s dress: another thing to add to the list of things faring better than he was. It was instinct that led Thor to lean to the side, lowering his head onto his mother’s shoulder without looking at her. She put a hand to the side of his head, drawing him in closer and running her fingers through the little hair not swept back in a braid. Her presence, although reassuring to the quiet part of Thor that screamed for attention, did nothing to soothe the ache resounding through his body. The pain that stemmed from his heart and was sent out fresh with every pulse of his heart.

“Please,” Frigga was quiet in her words but that didn’t stop the silence from shattering and falling to pieces around them. Thor couldn’t tell if it made any difference. “Tell me what ails you so, Thor. What makes your heart so sick?”

And for a long, drawn-out, horrible second, Thor wanted to tell her. He wanted to come clean, to admit the guilt that had been plaguing his mind and erasing his soul. To tell her that it was  _ all _ his fault why Loki wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t leave his room or do anything else after he had been so close to recovery. He wanted to tell her everything he had done and then weep into her skirts like a child and receive simple absolution. He wanted this to be over and it terrified him that it didn’t matter to him how that happened. Of course he couldn’t do or say any of that. Things were more complicated than they had been. Nothing was easy and Thor didn’t know if he could take one more person being upset with him, especially not someone he loved. 

“He will forgive you.”

The words shocked Thor and sent a wave of feeling through his body, echoing all the way in his fingertips as he registered the words. He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t done anything or indicated that this had to do with Loki at all. Did she know? She couldn’t know. Frigga waited patiently while Thor floundered for words, each sounding worse than the last until he finally blurted out the first thing he had thought.

“How do you…?” Perhaps not such a complete thought after all, but it was something other than silence. Frigga didn’t answer for a long minute, pressing her fingertips to Thor’s hairline as she brushed his hair back behind his ear. Had Thor been looking at her, he probably would see a smile on his mother’s face, the knowing one that she always wore when she was being excessively patient with one of her sons.

“Whatever you said,” she murmured, only for her eldest to hear, “it cannot have been as bad as you fear.” 

Thor almost wanted to laugh. “You’re wrong,” he croaked out, voice suddenly dry with the certainty of his statement. “He will never forgive me for this.” He could feel when Frigga shook her head, the motion brushing some of her hair over his forehead. He felt almost safe like this and he knew that if there were anyone in the nine realms he could take advice from, it was his mother.

“ _ You  _ are wrong, my son.” Her voice was not unkind, the gentle tone soothing to Thor’s mind no matter how little it took away the pain, comparable to putting ice on a stab wound. Small, and pitiful relief, but leagues better than no relief at all. “He will always forgive you.”

And truly, what could Thor say to that?

***

The next time he went to see his brother, he went at night. Thor figured he had a better chance of not being expelled with magic if Loki were asleep, or his guard was down, ignoring the dangers that also came with that. Neither his mother or father knew how Loki had gotten his magic back; whether it came back on his own or if Loki did something to return it to himself. Neither his mother or father had spoken to Loki at all. He refused to leave his room. The familiarity of the situation sent a spasm of pain through Thor’s chest as he pushed the door open quietly, letting out a small breath when the door moved for him. 

Thor blinked in the darkness, one candle lighting the room and leaving Thor shocked at the sight in front of him. Seeing Loki in bed was not necessarily a new thing and it wasn’t what disturbed Thor. Loki had spent most of the last few months in bed. It was seeing him in bed fully clothed, hiding under the covers and seeing things scattered around the floor like they had been thrown, that made Thor blink again. Loki lifted his head to see who had opened his door, only to narrow his eyes at Thor and hiss at him to get out. Thor did exactly the opposite, closing the door behind him as he walked further into the room. If Loki truly wanted him out then Thor would be on his ass in the hallway by now. The realization brought him a little comfort, a tiny spark lighting in his chest and pushing him forward.

“Of course. Of course you wouldn’t listen. Why would you?” Thor could hear Loki muttering even from across the room, and couldn’t help wanting to smile despite the clearly bitter comments directed at him. He carefully stepped through the mess on the floor, frowning at some of the things he saw. One of the books strewn across the floor was Loki’s most prized spell book and the pages were creased and nearly torn in half. Thor picked it up and straightened out the pages before setting it down on the table, seating himself tentatively on the side of Loki’s bed like he had every right to be there, but was afraid. 

“What’s wrong, brother?” Thor asked softly, choosing to look around the room instead of at Loki. Not that Loki would look back at him either, the blankets all but over his head where he lay. He tried to ignore the fact that this was probably the most both of them had spoken in however many days since Thor’s latest fuck up. He also tried to ignore Loki’s harsh chuckle, knowing that it could be nothing but mocking him.

Apparently Thor’s question was so offensively stupid that Loki didn’t lower himself to answer it. The silence ticked by in increasingly uncomfortable increments, leaving Thor struggling to keep his hands still instead of fidgeting. The anxiety was almost a welcome reprieve from the agony of the blankness that had taken up residence in his heart. “Loki, please,” Thor began, pressing his hands flat against his thighs as he hesitated, trying to think of the words he was looking for. The words that would render this situation a misunderstanding instead of a devastation, the words that would take back their suffering and undo what Thor wanted to take back. 

The words didn’t come fast enough and Loki cut him off. “Are you certain that you want to be  _ here _ ? Talking to  _ me _ ?” Sharp enough to cut holes in Thor’s chest, poking holes through the already mangled flesh of his heart. It was more than just pointed words, though, that caused Thor to feel like he had committed an unforgivably grievous crime. Stinging words from his brother he could handle. What truly injured him was the hurt so clearly underlying the words. Loki’s pain was so obvious, so poorly concealed under his anger, that it broke Thor’s heart. His mouth contorted into a frown and he fought the need to wince, turning his body so that he was facing his brother-- who still wasn’t looking at him-- and laying a hand on his shoulder, only for it to be ripped off with surprising force. Thor balked at this, having been so long since Loki had denied Thor’s touch. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, walking back into Loki’s room after days of radio silence on both sides. Did he expect Loki to just forgive him like that?

Loki had rolled over to tear Thor’s hand off of him and his eyes were blazing. The fury that could be seen there was accented by the tears that not even the god of mischief could hide. His brother looked horrible, disturbingly reminiscent of when he had first fallen from the sky. His dark hair hung in front of his face, the tangles doing nothing to conceal his face. The smudged circles under his eyes lamenting days without sleep and the gauntness of his cheeks highlighting what had to be a very limited food intake. The longer Thor looked the more upset with himself he became. Loki had needed him, so obviously, and Thor had turned his back and moped, worrying selfishly about his own problems. It was hard to remember why he had been so distant when the only thing he could focus on was his brother. How could he have ever stayed away?

“Loki… I am sorry.” All of his prior expectations of Loki’s reaction, what felt like a century ago, did nothing to actually prepare Thor for his brother’s anger. He felt nothing but the all-consuming regret that threatened to crash over him in endless waves. Loki’s acrid laugh did nothing to stop this, the sound driving Thor’s pain deeper into his chest until he could feel tears of his own pricking at his eyes, as if he had a right to cry. 

“Yes, yes you should be sorry. Doing something stupid like kissing your monster of a brother. How can you even live with yourself now? No, don’t tell me,” Loki put a finger to his lips, tapping it in mock contemplation. “Ah, of course. You were drunk and can hardly be held accountable for what you did. Did I get it right?”

“Loki…”

“And then you get to just fuck off and do whatever it is you do, leaving the pieces behind you. You can never take responsibility for your actions, can you? Just when I thought that things were changing, that something  _ might _ be different, you have to go and mess it up. You had to prove me right. The one time, the  _ one time _ that I wanted to be wrong and you-- you just fucked it all up. How very in character of you.” 

“How did I prove you wrong, Loki?” Thor asked quietly, voice rasping as he tried to swallow down his tears. He was upset. Down to his core, tangible pain in his chest, struggling to breathe upset. He knew that Loki could see that. He also knew that Loki probably didn’t care, caught up as he was in his own anger.

“Must you even ask? I had-- I had thought that I was lovable, that I could be capable of being loved and you had to-- you had to just-- go and fuck it all up, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. The statement of fact only added more fuel to the fire of both Thor’s upset and Loki’s anger, the tension in the room growing as both brothers felt sorry for themselves. 

“Of course you--”

“Thor, I swear on Ymir’s teeth that if you are about to tell me ‘Of course you’re lovable’ then I will shortly be punching you in the face,” Loki hissed out, fists clenching on the sheets so tightly that Thor could see the stitches stretching. “It’s  _ fine _ . Just because you feel burdened with regret does not mean that I need to be bothered by you. Do you have  _ any _ idea how-- no. Go feel guilty somewhere else, I have no need of your fake affection here.” 

Gone was the brother that had been desperate for attention, crying when Thor had tried to leave. Gone was the man whose need for affection was so powerful it could have dragged an entire realm to its knees. In its place was a man whose anger could raze cities. Scorned and left out to dry, Loki would not hesitate to tear Asgard down brick by brick, starting with Thor. He could take no more, no more of the lies and no more of the family that seemed to do nothing but hurt him. Thor was so incredibly confused as to how they ended up here, how he had managed to go so wrong by doing something he had felt was right.

“Do you honestly think that I hold no affection for you?” The words were low, somewhat muffled by the fact that Thor was looking down as he spoke. Anger was pushing its way up his throat, clawing at the sides of his skull to be let out and he struggled to keep his voice even. The anger was starting to cloud the hurt, a reprieve so welcome that Thor accepted it with open arms. “That I spent months by your bedside out of-- what, guilt? That I kissed you because I was drunk? For all your cleverness, Loki, you truly are dense.”

That stopped Loki dead. He paused, mimicking Thor by staring down at his hands. Thor could see the wheels turning in his head, the only thing missing was smoke coming from his ears from how hard his brain must be working. 

“Then why did you kiss me?” 

Barely a whisper, barely a note of sound that Thor’s ears just barely picked up. The insecurity in the words, the loneliness and sadness that wracked the tone inspired Thor to reach out once more, placing a hesitant hand on Loki’s shoulder. He would have been more surprised if Loki hadn’t immediately thrown him off.

“ _ Because _ I love you. Why is this so hard for you to understand?” The strain in Thor’s voice made his throat hurt, the effort it took to keep from either shouting or crying-- it was unclear to Thor which-- making him wince at the feeling of merely speaking. The anger he had been so eager to embrace moments ago was quickly abating, far faster than Thor would have liked. He knew what would be left behind in its wake and felt almost in wild in his desperation to avoid it. The only thing that stopped him from jumping up and screaming, raging and crying, was the fact that Loki hadn’t kicked Thor out yet. He could tell Thor to leave until his voice was hoarse, but if he didn’t make any effort to actually remove his brother, then there was a part of him, albeit likely a small part, that didn’t want Thor to leave. That meant there was hope and Thor had to try and stay calm.

“Because people don’t just kiss their little brothers, Thor.” Loki snapped. The vulnerability he had displayed moments ago was long gone, so far gone that Thor wondered if he hadn’t imagined it. “Not unless there is something seriously wrong with them. Which obviously isn’t the case with  _ you _ since you harbor so much regret about it. Now  _ go the fuck away _ .”

Something clicked in Thor’s brain. Maybe it was the way Loki spoke about regret like the word was burning his mouth, or the way his face twisted when he spoke of normalcy. Loki was angry, that much was clear to Thor. He was practically sparking with anger, and Thor knew that if he could see the look in Loki’s eyes it would be truly frightening. But the reason for his brother’s anger was becoming less and less clear, Thor’s brain muddled as he tried to decipher it all. His pulse was audible in his brain, picking up speed as he tried to regulate his emotions and breathe breathe breathe. 

“I  _ do _ love you, Loki. I would never say something like that and not mean it.” Thor tried to be as transparent as possible, laying his words out like he might a battle plan. He couldn’t afford to leave out anything for fear of Loki twisting his words even further. “And I am sorry for making you uncomfortable. For kissing you without your permission.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, the apology he had been wanting to make for days manifesting itself at last. Strangely there was no relief tied to it. No sense of having righted a great wrong or finally admitting to a mistake. It felt hollow, echoing in the pit of Thor’s stomach like a stone dropped from a cliff.

“ _ That _ is what you are sorry for?” The disbelief that colored Loki’s tone was enough to make Thor even more confused. What had Loki thought he was apologizing for, if not that? What in the Norns was  _ happening _ ?

“You are not sorry for kissing me, your brother?” The way Loki gently emphasized the word brother set alarm bells off in Thor’s brain. There was no way that this could be anything other than dangerous territory. It felt too much like a turning point that Thor felt a strong need to avoid. 

But he was so tired of lying. 

He never lied with his words, that much was true. His actions, on the other hand, were filled with deception. The friendly arm he threw around Loki’s shoulder at a celebration, the way he stole glances at his brother when Loki wasn’t looking. How he had yearned for their relationship to become something more, something it could never be. How much he did not regret kissing Loki in the least. 

“No. I do not regret that,” The confession was whispered and a huge risk, his heart racing at a speed that made his head feel light. Adrenaline seemed to have replaced the anxiety and the numbness and Thor thought he could faint with the relief of it. It was the truth, finally and at last, and Thor had a feeling that he was correct for once. Loki didn’t seem to be angry that Thor had kissed him, but that Thor seemed to regret it. The comments about being unlovable, about being a monster-- it all made sense. A risk nonetheless. If he was wrong about this, if Loki actually--

Soft lips pressed against his own, completely destroying Thor’s train of thought. He hadn’t noticed Loki sitting up or moving closer to him, but he did notice the way his brother’s hand came up to cup his face and the way his head turned slightly to the side to better kiss him. Thor’s mouth was parted slightly as his brain short circuited and he sat there dumbly. He could feel Loki smile against his lips as he lifted his other hand, cradling Thor’s face sweetly. 

“Nothing to say, brother? Not so much fun when it happens to you, hm?” Loki murmured, pressing small kisses to the side of Thor’s mouth as he waited for him to recover. The fact that Loki’s sadness had seemed to just drain right out of him was unusual and almost as shocking to Thor as the kiss itself. Loki’s holding of grudges was legendary, there was absolutely no way he had gotten over it that quickly. His hands were shaking very finely as he put his hands on Loki’s shoulders and pulled his brother in until he had no choice but to rest his chin on Thor’s shoulder. 

“You,” Thor stated, shaking his head in disbelief as he clasped his brother to his body, “are absolutely ridiculous. Only you, brother. I swear it.” 

Loki chuckled and pushed weakly on Thor’s shoulders, so weakly, in fact, that Thor suspected he wasn’t trying to escape at all. “You are the one who kissed me and then ran like a scared child. What was I supposed to think, Thor, if not that you regretted it?” The heaviness of the words were offset by the playfulness of Loki’s tone, like Loki was intentionally trying to keep the conversation light. For one of the few times in his life, Thor read the situation correctly. He’d been doing that more and more often lately. He pulled away from the embrace, placing his hands on Loki’s face in a mimicry of Loki’s earlier hold. 

“I was only afraid that you would hate me, that you did not want to be kissed. I love you so much, Loki. To lose you again would be…” Thankfully Thor didn’t have to finish his sentence. Loki, being Loki, knew exactly what he was trying to say. It was true that his eyes no longer held the same sadness and anger that they did only minutes ago. In their place was a relief so powerful that Thor could only compare it to his own. The knowledge that his feelings were mutual, that Loki  _ did _ care, did want this, was intoxicating.

“I very rarely do things that I have no desire to do.” The haughtiness of the response was like a mirror image of Thor’s Loki, of the one who disappeared almost three years ago and Thor had spent years wishing could be back. The response was so confident, so full of assurance and so full of  _ Loki _ that Thor wanted to kiss him. 

So he did.

Their third kiss was exactly like the first should have been. Sweet and soft, practically dripping with unchecked affection. Love was echoed in every slide of their lips, every gentle caress and buzzing in the stomach that made Thor’s head feel light. He could not escape the feeling that something momentous had just shifted, that something in his life would never be quite the same.

Thor wasn’t sure he minded. 

As long as they had this feeling, this moment of love and caring and everything that should have come first, Thor can be content. He can ignore the state of the room and what it echoes, he can ignore the reason Loki became so attached to him in the first place, what they still have yet to discuss. As long as he could feel Loki in his arms, practically melting into the embrace like he had always been there, it didn’t matter.

He leaned them forward until Loki was reclining on his back, one of Thor’s hands under his back to support them and hold his brother close. Closer than he should have been, closer than anyone else other than Thor would ever hold Loki again. The thought made something possessive in his stomach purr and he leaned into the kiss all the more heavily for it, sliding his hand down to cup the side of Loki’s neck. Thor could feel Loki’s heart rate spike, thin and spidery under his palm where Thor held him. A slick feeling of satisfaction made its way down into Thor’s belly as he tasted more than heard Loki’s breath hitch as his brother’s breathing pattern stuttered. 

It didn’t come as a surprise when Loki was the first to change, when he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Thor’s. He was swallowing like he was trying hard not to breathe loudly, the flush on his cheeks so dark that it would have been concerning under any other circumstances. A weak smile pulled his mouth up at the corners and Thor found himself unable to look away. The red that painted Loki’s lips, how they shined with the fact that  _ Thor’s _ lips had been there mere moments ago made Thor want to kiss him again and again and never stop. He leaned in to do just that when Loki’s smile widened and he placed his index finger on Thor’s lips to stop him. Loki’s breathing was just a little bit faster than what might be considered normal, but nowhere near the frenzy it had been the other night.

“What are we going to do now, Thor?” The words were soft, echoed by the searching look in Loki’s eyes that reminded Thor of countless memories from their childhood. Memories of Loki looking to Thor for guidance, for help and for anything else he might need. Thor felt the expected burning desire to keep those eyes safe and to protect their owner with everything he had. He moved Loki’s finger from his lips, bringing his hand up and pressing a kiss to Loki’s palm, then down to his wrist. His smile had never felt more natural as he looked at Loki, letting the peace and surety of this one moment swallow him whole. He was so,  _ so _ grateful that Loki was alive. That he had come back, had returned and found his home once more. Nothing else mattered, not the past and certainly not the future. There was not a single thing more important than their now. 

Thor leaned down and pressed a kiss to Loki’s neck, relishing in the hurriedly-stifled gasp it earned him as he pulled back. There was lightning underneath his skin that was sparking, rolling lazily around his veins at the sound, at the look on Loki’s face and the potential that their actions had. He wanted to draw all those sounds and more from his brother’s throat, wanted to spend an eternity covering every inch of his too-pale skin in slow kisses. Tempering the urge was hard, harder than it had any right to be, but Thor felt that he could manage it. There was a lot he could handle as long as Loki was in his arms and looking at him like he never wanted Thor to leave.

“I wouldn’t worry, brother.” Thor’s words were steadier than they had any right to be as he beamed at Loki, his eyes bright with the love that tried to explode out of him, out of his eyes and his mouth and into every thought and word he had. “I feel like everything is going to work out fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left to go: the epilogue! Thanks for reading.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was grateful.

People still bowed as Loki passed them. 

It was such a small thing that he had expected to wear off soon after the novelty of his return, but almost another year later and Asgard still seemed to hold respect for him. Respect they never had before, certainly. Loki couldn’t help but wonder if it was because they saw him as a hero now. 

Very few knew the true circumstances of his disappearance and the royal family was being rather tight-lipped about it. Rumors and avid speculations had spread like wildfire, surprisingly overwhelmingly positive renditions of what Loki might have done. For his death to have affected the royal family-- Thor in particular-- so deeply, Loki must have done something exceptionally heroic. The most favored theory was that Loki had fallen gravely ill protecting Thor from a malicious curse and fallen into a coma for those two years, kept a secret from Asgard in case he never recovered. As a matter of fact, there were some guards who (over a few tankards of ale) had sworn up and down that they’d seen the prince hidden in a sect of the palace healing wing. 

Of course none of this was even remotely close to true, but it benefited Loki so he let it stand. Who was he to correct them? Being respected, almost revered by the people he had vied desperately to fit in with for so many years was a good feeling. Almost good enough for Loki to be grateful that he was back, to pretend that the Void had never happened. 

His fingers clenched slightly at the thought of that cursed abyss. Even in the hidden recesses of his memory, Loki could not escape the abyss. The things he had seen, the horrors he had been an unwilling witness to, the things that had been done to him, as punishment for watching still woke him up screaming occasionally. The constant threat of falling back in seemed to loom over his shoulder every moment, every dream that pervaded his nightly rest and kept him almost always feeling weary. They were all a part of him now. There would be no return from that, no reversing time and unwinding the dark threads from around his body. There was just moving on. There was just holding his head up and noticing the things he had, the things that were here and were not threatening to take him away. 

And it was easy to imagine, standing in the middle of Asgard’s royal garden, that it was true. That nobody would come and steal him away in the dead of night, away from his brother and his parents. That the horrors he experienced were nothing more than memories or dreams. It was so easy to pretend it was true.

Mother’s gardens looked particularly vibrant today. Loki realized that he had been standing still for a few minutes, halted in the middle of his daily walk around his mother’s thriving garden. Frigga was very proud of the flowers and the vegetables that she grew there, tending to each plant with a group of servants that she was teaching how to properly attend to plants. They often got to take home vegetables and flowers that they had helped grow as a reward. The Allmother’s kindness was unarguable. Loki smiled to himself as he couldn’t help but agree.

The more Loki looked at the flowers, the more he noticed. The particularly sharp hue of the red roses, the way morning dew still seemed to cling to leaves and sparkle at high noon, how the thorns were neatly clipped but still a present threat. He observed how the roses kept living despite the threat, using it to their advantage, even. He reached out with his magic, watching as the flowers bloomed in front of his eyes. Loki was beyond grateful to have his magic returned to him. His seidr had returned slowly, drip by drip back into his aching veins, but it all proved well-worth it as he smiled at the beautiful things he had helped create with it. Everything about this garden spoke to intensive love and care. It was one of Loki’s favorite places. 

“ _ There _ you are, brother! I have been searching everywhere for you!”

Speaking of Loki’s favorite places. 

A smile was already forming on Loki’s face as he turned to greet his brother who was striding through the garden like he built it. Loki firmly believed that there was no force in any of the nine realms powerful enough to dull Thor’s radiance or make his aura less brilliant. The golden prince lived up to every ounce of his reputation: hair shining like molten gold in the sunlight, intense muscles shifting underneath bronzed skin, and a smile that could have turned any night back to day. Thor was beautiful, he was  _ perfect _ . 

He was Loki’s. 

“Thor, I walk the same route everyday,” Loki said mildly, holding out a hand for his brother to take as Thor finally got close enough. It was a difficult challenge not to roll his eyes as Thor batted his offered hand aside and instead swept him into an irritatingly tight hug that soothed every one of Loki’s nerves. 

Where before there had been darkness, where there had been only fear and paranoia and horrible knowledge-- now there was a light that coexisted with the dark. There was light and warmth and Thor’s arms and the love of his family. There was the promise that they would catch him if he fell and that Asgard wanted him and that he was  _ worth _ something. He mattered, he was important. He was beyond loved. He would not be allowed to fall.

He was grateful.

“Aye, perhaps, but surely you cannot expect me to keep track of all that?” Thor teased, letting his lips brush against Loki’s forehead in a gesture so powerfully affectionate that it  _ still _ made Loki feel weak. He wasn’t sure he would ever stop feeling that way. 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

“No,” Loki agreed, threading his fingers through Thor’s as the smile on his face melted into something exasperated, something fond and full of belonging. Something he could get used to. “I suppose I cannot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks. Hope you enjoyed!


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